


Reality Bites

by notjustmom, scrub456



Series: John and Sherlock's Excellent Adventure [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alice in Wonderland References, Case Fic, F/M, Gen, M/M, Return to Baskerville, The Three Garridebs moment, handsy but platonic, more canonish than Mofftissh, the holiday is over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-07-26 00:10:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 43,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7552564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom, https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrub456/pseuds/scrub456
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John return to London after their Grecian holiday. </p><p> </p><p>The shared follow up to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7258249/chapters/16480279">John and Sherlock’s Excellent Adventure</a> by notjustmom and scrub456.</p><p>Alice in Wonderland: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/11/11-h/11-h.htm</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [John and Sherlock's Excellent Adventure](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7258249) by [notjustmom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom), [scrub456](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrub456/pseuds/scrub456). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"'It was much pleasanter at home,' thought poor Alice, 'when one wasn't always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by mice and rabbits. I almost wish I hadn't gone down the rabbit-hole--and yet--and yet--...'"_ \--Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland, Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of "turbulence" for the boys on the return to London, but not to worry. These are the same John and Sherlock from "Excellent Adventure."

John Watson was many things.

He was an invalided former soldier who sometimes forgot the _invalided former_ part of the designation.

He was a very good doctor who was hours from delivering his letter of resignation from the only surgery that had never dismissed him because of his partnership with Sherlock.

He was an Englishman who had fought and nearly died for _Queen and Country,_ and who had only just promised his heart and future to another, foreign coast.

He was a skeptic when it came to deity, but knew firsthand that soulmates, destiny, and quite possibly reincarnation, were real and active in his life.

He was the partner, colleague, flatmate, blogger, best friend, personal physician and chef, interpreter of humanity, conductor of light, heart and other half of Sherlock Holmes.

Yes, John Watson was all of these things, and so many more. But one thing he was not, especially when the situation warranted it, was a man who minced his words.

They'd retrieved their bags from the international luggage claim, and shoved their way through the throng of indifferent masses. John had taken Sherlock's free hand in his, in an effort to ground them both.

When they made their way out the front doors it was all John could do to keep from turning around, marching straight up to the first ticket queue, and demanding they take him right back to the Mediterranean warmth of his little island home. The unseasonably frigid London air stole his breath, and he sniffed and coughed before he could stop it. At least they'd had the forethought to wear their coats.

John noticed the filthy heaps of snow and slush scraped to the edge if the sidewalk and shivered. "Bloody buggering hell it's cold." 

Sherlock pulled him closer to his side and chuckled. "Back in London less than an hour and already with the swearing." He tsk'd. "Didn't take long."

With a huff, John opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by a resolute declaration of "NO" and an indignant stomp of the foot by Sherlock as a black sedan pulled up in front of them, and a nondescript man in a nondescript suit scrambled out to open the door for them.

"Mr. Holmes. Doctor Watson. Welcome home."

"You tell my brother I'm not interested in" Sherlock let go of John's hand only long enough to flap his hand indignantly at the car, " _this._ Whatever it is." He grabbed John's hand again and started to storm away. "We'll wait all evening for a cab if we have to."

Ordinarily John might have just sighed and gone along with Sherlock. But then, ordinarily John hadn't just spent a week on a Grecian beach in the sun, only to come back to dreary London on ice. He was frozen through and done with being out in the elements.

John stood his ground, tugged Sherlock back, and received a petulant glare in return.

"Sherlock, η καρδιά μου. το άλλο μου μισό." John spoke softly but with purpose. Sherlock stilled immediately, and his sharp features relaxed. "I love you. I do. But if you don't get in the damn car, and I mean now, you won't have to worry about solving any more cases because I'm going to murder you."

Sherlock grumbled something, John could only really make out "not fair," passed off his luggage to the nondescript minion, and slumped into the car. 

John sighed. Less than an hour back indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> η καρδιά μου. το άλλο μου μισό. - my heart. My other half.


	2. Brother, Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Let me think: was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is, Who in the world am I? Ah, that's the great puzzle!' "
> 
> -Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland, Chapter 1

"Γαμήσου!" John muttered as he stormed past Mycroft, who was lounging in his chair, and wearing that imperious, obnoxiously omniscient smirk. "...Και φύγε από την πολυθρόνα μου!"

"Απολαύσατε το ταξιδι σας στην τρύπα του λαγού, Dr. Watson?"

John rolled his eyes as he set his bags down carefully in the kitchen as to not break the jars of honey and preserves he had carefully packed, was it just this morning...

"What do you want, Mycroft?" Sherlock yawned as he fell onto the couch, without removing his shoes, coat or scarf.

"Simply wanted to welcome you home, brother mine..."

"and...?" Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed.

Mycroft studied him closely and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You finally remembered. I did wonder you hadn't realised before now."

John put on the kettle and shook his head. "Of course you knew..." He walked over to the fire that one of Mycroft's minions had built, he couldn't imagine Mycroft ever doing anything that could smudge or wrinkle one of his bespoke suits, which probably cost twice what their cottage... home....was worth. He looked down at his watch, but shook his head and grinned for the first time since leaving Greece. He had given it to Νικός, having set it to London time, so the boys would know what time it was where their αδελφοί lived. He needed to write the boys a letter once Mycroft finally departed - John turned and looked at the man he had just spent the last week with; the man who had discovered how to be calm, remembered how to watch sunsets, and who had not so many hours ago promised to be with him forever - was throwing the most magnificent strop in the history of strops. John sighed and pinched his nose, it would take a day to recover from this one, perhaps two, luckily Mrs. Hudson appeared to be away....

"Are you quite done?" Mycroft muttered as Sherlock threw himself back onto the couch and rolled away from his brother.

"He won't talk for days, now." John whispered into the fire. "Why don't you come back later, please, Mycroft?"

Mycroft turned towards John and for once he gave in. "Welcome to the family, John. Such as we are. I'll send Anthea with the file, it is of..."

"National importan- huh?"

"You and Sherlock plan to officialise your new standing...do you not?"

"Who said - what business is it of yours - shit. How can you tell?" He turned to look at the well-dressed bureaucrat and saw regret and a bit of envy in his face, perhaps the tiniest bit of sentiment.

"It's in your eyes, and in his." Mycroft indicated the still, silent lump on the couch. "I knew if he ever remembered who you were, who you are together, he would never let you go. I simply assumed you feel the same."

John nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. Can you pull the door closed as you leave?" 

 

"καρδιά μου?"

Sherlock didn't move. 

"Αγάπη μου."

John laid on the couch next to Sherlock, threw his arm around his waist and eventually felt Sherlock's cold fingers find his warmer ones.

"Let's get out of these clothes and go to bed, yeah?" He got off the couch and helped Sherlock to sit up enough so that John could remove his shoes, scarf and coat. "It will be alright, Aγάπη μου, let's get a rest, then we can have some bread and honey? Ioanna packed us half a dozen loaves, she knows how much you can go through in a morning -"

"θέλω να πάω σπίτι." Sherlock leaned his head against John's and sighed.

"Το ξέρω και εγώ το ίδιο. Bed, yeah?" John took Sherlock's hand in his and led him to Sherl- their bedroom, undressed them both, then breathed a sigh of relief as they found their sleeping positions - his head rested against Sherlock's chest, while Sherlock gently held him in his arms. He had been slightly afraid Sherlock would pull away from him once they returned...

"Μην ανησυχείς καρδιά μου...I know who you are, I haven't forgotten." Sherlock murmured as he fell asleep.

 

John sighed as he turned on his phone, saw ten new texts already, including one from Lestrade, just sent an hour ago.

Heard yer back, got a doozy for 'im - GL

Give us til tomorrow, yeah? - JW

Tomorrow it is - good trip? - GL

Wouldn't believe me if I told you - JW

 

He laid back in Sherlock's arms and took a deep breath, closed his eyes and waited for the dreams to return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Γαμήσου! - Bugger off!
> 
> Και να βγει από την καρέκλα μου - And get out of my chair
> 
> Απολαύστε το ταξίδι σας κάτω από την τρύπα του κουνελιού? - Enjoy your trip down the rabbit hole?
> 
> αδελφοί - brothers
> 
> φίλτατος - beloved
> 
> θέλω να πάω σπίτι - I want to go home.
> 
> Το ξέρω και εγώ το ίδιο - I know, me too
> 
> Μην ανησυχείτε, η καρδιά μου - Don't worry, my heart


	3. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"'Oh, I've had such a curious dream!' said Alice, and she told her sister, as well as she could remember them, all these strange Adventures of hers that you have just been reading about; and when she had finished, her sister kissed her, and said, 'It was a curious dream, dear, certainly: but now run in to your tea; it's getting late.'"_ -Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland, Chapter 12

_No. Nononono... Not right. Nothing's... right..._

_Sherlock turned in a slow circle. Examining. Assessing. It was the same -- he could smell the chlorine, hear the water gently lapping against the side of the pool -- but somehow not. There... a glint. A brief disturbance up in the viewing gallery. It was ingrained in the image, but he hadn't noticed it the first time -- the_ real _time, he reminded himself. This wasn't real. He knew it wasn't. In real life he couldn't rewind and reevaluate, but he'd already watched that same glint, the one he'd missed when it had actually mattered, five times._

 _He was in a dream. He knew it was a dream._ Wake up, idiot. Wake up before it gets too far. _It had to be a dream._

_Sherlock looked down at himself. Gun in his right hand, flash drive in his left; that seemed correct. But everything else was all wrong. He was barefoot and somewhat tanned, wearing bright yellow swim shorts and one of John's worn soft t-shirts..._

__John. God no. John's meant to be here. Will be here. Wake up. Please, wake up now. Oh... John...

_Sherlock turned in the direction of the shuffle of fabric and blanched. His strength faltered and he collapsed to his knees. "John..." he barely managed a ragged whisper._

_"This is a turn-up, huh, William?" It wasn't the version of John who had actually been at the pool. Nor was it Sherlock's_ right now, forever and always _John. It was eight year old, towheaded John strapped into the bomb built for an adult._

_What could his mind possibly hope to accomplish with this torment? "Why? Why him? What is the point of this?" Sherlock asked the questions out loud, genuinely hoping for an answer._

_John made a sound... not a whimper, though Sherlock thought it sounded equal parts terrified and frustrated. John was holding his hands out from his sides, his fingers nervously twitching; he pursed his lips and looked at Sherlock with achingly apologetic eyes. And the hellish narration started once more. "W-what... What would you... like him to... say next?"_

_"John, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'll fix it."_ Wake up. You utter bastard, wake up! Wake up now... __

_"Λάμψε, λάμψε, μικρό αστέρι..." John fumbled the pronunciation, his voice wavered as he sang, and his eyes went wide with fear._

_"No." Frantic, Sherlock pushed himself to his feet and started shouting. "Do you hear me? Stop this! Not him. Not that song."_

_Though his lower lip trembled, John lifted his chin with childish defiance, and Sherlock shook his head. "No. No John. You do what he says. It's not your fault. It's mine. I'll fix it. Please, just do what he says..."_

_John narrowed his eyes at him, pressed his mouth as tightly shut as possible, and shook his head._

_"It's disappointing really." A cheerful, lilting, disgustingly familiar sing-song voice called from the shadows._

_Sherlock seethed as Moriarty sauntered around the corner and toward them at a glacial pace. "Let's skip this part shall we? We've already established..."_

_"Hi-iiii." Moriarty cut him off and came to a stop next to John. He observed the boy with a put-upon pout, a mocking stomp of his foot, and a huff. He turned to Sherlock then, and his disapproval snapped into a manufactured grin. He studied the detective for a moment and his features hardened into something threatening and dangerous. "δύο μισά της μιας καρδιάς"_

_Sherlock froze. His breath caught in his throat._ Wakeupwakeupwakeup _"W-what did you just say?"_

_"Sherrr-lock," Emphasizing the 'k,' Moriarty rolled his eyes. "You're distracted. Repetition is sooo boring. I said, 'Did you miss me?'"_

_"No..." Sherlock shook his head. "No you didn't."_

_Moriarty stepped up close to Sherlock, exhaled in frustration and dropped his head back as if he were dying from boredom. "Why'd you have to go and get a heart, Sherlock? I warned you, didn't I? I tried and I tried and I tried." He squared his shoulders and looked Sherlock in the eyes._

_"You're dead."_

_"So were you." Moriarty's eyes flashed._

_"There's nothing you can do to him."_

_"Oh, Sherlock." Moriarty patted his cheek. "So so precious. Look at you. All that ooey-gooey love, and it's only been a week." He turned abruptly and paced a few steps nearer John. Moriarty lifted his hand and a red laser dot appeared in the middle of John's chest. John sniffed, but he kept his eyes trained on Sherlock and his chin lifted high._

_"As I was saying earlier, it's disappointing." Moriarty turned to face Sherlock. "They're suppose to be easily broken in when they're young. This one's defective." He sighed again and assumed a distressed whine. "He just won't obey commands." He looked at Sherlock with a laser focus. "And what do we do with pets who don't play nice?"_

_"You leave him out of this. This is between you and me," Sherlock ground out. He shifted his grip on the gun and raised it toward Moriarty._

_Moriarty tilted his head and smiled mockingly. "But you went and changed the rules, didn't you?" He rushed forward so his face was directly in Sherlock's face, his eyes wide and glistening black. "Oh Sherlock. You did miss this. I knew it. It's just too bad. I warned you. Είπα ότι θα κάψει την καρδιά έξω από εσάς." He breathed hard through his nose. "Everybody is going to notice that Sherlock Holmes got himself a heart. And when certain types of people do..." He raised his hand and snapped his fingers._

_Sherlock screamed as the shot was fired._

He couldn't move. He needed to move but he was being restrained. Sherlock fought and kicked, frantically, to get his arms free to get to John. John. _John..._ He sat up and remembered. It was a dream. Just a dream. It didn't change the fact that his heart was racing, he could feel it up into his jaw, or that he was openly weeping. He searched the bed beside him, but John was gone.

Gone.

John.

He tossed blankets and pillows, in a ludicrous effort to find him. He switched on the lamp, but his anxiety only increased when he realized he was alone in the room. Sherlock stood where he was, on the center of the bed, and stumbled forward, off toward the bedroom door. It wasn't closed, but he fumbled with it anyway.

He'd done it. Moriarty had gotten to him, somehow. John was gone. He was gone. 

Sherlock crashed through the door to the loo, only to find the room empty. He staggered to the kitchen, panting, tears streaming.

"John." He breathed the name, but couldn't seem to get enough air to form the sound. His John. Η καρδιά του. Η ζωή του. He was filling a glass with water at the kitchen sink. In just a few unsteady steps Sherlock was on him, wrapped around him from behind. John jumped and dropped his glass and it shattered in the sink.

"Sherlock!" Before he could finish his thought, he realized Sherlock was sobbing into his shoulder and repeating his name over and over again. "Sherlock. Hey...Sherlock, let me..." John gingerly tugged on Sherlock's arms until the grip was loosened enough for him to turn so that they were facing one another. Sherlock collapsed against him once more, burying his face in John's neck and holding onto him with all his might.

John simply held him in return. He lost track of time, and still he held him. Sherlock cried himself out, until all that was left were shuddering breaths, nearly his full weight draped over John, and he continued to hold on.

"Will you tell me? Please?" John whispered. "I want to help." Sherlock didn't so much as sigh, he simply held on.

"Okay. It's okay." John ran his fingers in soothing circles over Sherlock's back.

"The reason I was up, why I wasn't with you when you woke up," John couldn't do anything about the sorrow that crept into his voice. Sherlock heard it, and shifted just so that he was no longer just holding onto John, but he was actually holding John. "I had a nightmare too. I didn't want to wake you." Sherlock pulled him closer.

"It was the day..." John chose his words carefully. "The day Moriarty made you jump. The whole thing, just as it happened in real life, except I _knew_ what was going on, and I tried to tell you, but you were so convinced that you had to protect me, and that you had to do it on your own..." John took a deep breath. "You wouldn't listen to me, and then you jumped. But in my dream, you really... It was really your blood on my hands."

Sherlock tensed for just a moment, then pulled back from their embrace. He cupped John's face with both of his hands and used his thumbs to gently brush away the silent tears John had been trying so hard to keep at bay for Sherlock's sake. "Η καρδιά μου. Είμαι εδώ." John closed his eyes and nodded. Sherlock took John's hand and led him back to the bedroom where he closed the door against the world, and quickly righted the bed.

When John saw the mess of twisted blankets and pillows, the sorrow returned renewed. "αγαπητέ, Λυπάμαι."

Wrapping one hand firmly around the back of John's neck, Sherlock shushed him. "Εμπιστέψου με?" John nodded.

Sherlock reached for John’s mobile, and downloaded a white noise application. He turned on the ocean, climbed onto the bed so that he was leaning against the pillows and headboard, and then held out his hand. John smiled and took his place leaning back against Sherlock’s chest. It wasn't perfect because they had to pull up blankets to keep warm, and they had dim lamplight rather than stars or sunrise, but if they closed their eyes, it was close.

And it was here Sherlock felt safe enough to tell John of his dream, in all the alarming, excruciating detail. John remained silent, he matched Sherlock's tears with his own. When he finished his retelling, Sherlock buried his face against John’s shoulder once more.

"I think we've shared a dream again... Or at least we've been reminded of similar things. Lessons that will help us navigate while we're here." John explained as he settled back into Sherlock.

Sherlock hummed. "No secrets." He wrapped his arms more tightly around John. "I promise I will do better."

John nodded. "Everything together, at least when it comes to casework. It's why I'm leaving the surgery any way. We always get into trouble when we split up. We're a team for a reason."

"We need to be sure to listen to each other. Closely. You know me better than anyone ever has, I should understand that what you tell me is for my own good." Sherlock shifted them down the pillows just a little bit and yawned.

"And perhaps the most important." John turned off the lamp and settled back once more. "I would die for you. You know it's true." Sherlock inhaled a sharp breath. "And you would die for me." John squeezed Sherlock's hand. "But I don't want either of us to do that. I want us old and decrepit at home on the beach. So we have to be so, so careful. And we do all the things we just said. Agreed?"

Humming in agreement, Sherlock placed his hand over John's heart. "I promise, John."

"Me too. I promise." John yawned and curled slightly onto his side against Sherlock’s chest.

They woke the next day, neither one having moved, to a sharp knock on the bedroom door. "Sherlock? Look, I'm sorry to barge in, but I could really use your help, and John said..." Lestrade pushed the door open and froze. "Oh." Flushed crimson and eyes wide, Greg stammered something that sounded like an apology.

John squinted against the daylight, and Sherlock mumbled something unintelligible against his shoulder. "Give us a few, yeah?"

"Uh... yeah. Sure."

"And Greg..."

"Private is private." Lestrade held up his hands and backed out of the room.

"Well, damn." John yawned and stretched.

"If you repeat this, I will deny it, but the man is the best detective on the force. He'd figure it out sooner than later." Sherlock rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Yeah, but I didn't think it'd be less than twenty-four hours." John sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Λάμψε, λάμψε, μικρό αστέρι - this is the first line of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, which Νικό sang while Alex played his violin in chapter 49 of "John and Sherlock's Excellent Adventure"
> 
> δύο μισά της μιας καρδιάς - two halves of one heart
> 
> Είπα πως θα σου κάψω την καρδιά. - I said I would burn the heart out of you
> 
> Η καρδιά του. Η ζωή του - His heart. His life.
> 
> Καρδιά μου, είμαι εδώ. - my heart. I am here
> 
> Αγάπη μου, λυπάμαι- love, I am sorry
> 
> Εμπιστέψου με - trust me?


	4. A Case...or two...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.”  
> -Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland, Chapter 10

Lestrade was staring out the window at the dregs of the blizzard that was currently making his life hell, trying to wrap his not insignificant brain around what he had just seen. He had thought, or guess he had presumed...what had he thought? He stopped and made himself sit down before he fell down.

"Tea, Greg?" John's voice broke through his wanderings.

"Ta, yeah, haven't had time to, uhm, with all the snow and - so, if you don't mind me asking - I know it's really none of my business, how long have the two of you -"

"Just sleeping."

"Just sleeping. Okay, uhm, right."

"It's complicated." John sighed as he put the kettle on. He unwrapped a loaf of bread and cut three slabs from it. "Toast?"

Lestrade nodded. "Thought it might be at that, it is you and Sherlock after all, nothing's ever simple with you two."

John grinned at him, and Greg blinked. John wasn't by nature a grinner. He was normally the more genial of the two, but he honestly couldn't remember when he had last seen John actually smile. And this wasn't just a smirk or ironic turn up of his mouth...

"Geor- Greg, what brings you here through this muck so early?" Sherlock had quietly entered the room as he was trying to -

"It's three in the afternoon. I tried texting, but got nothin', so I thought it best just to see if you two were okay-"

"We're back, obviously. Okay, not entirely certain." Sherlock rubbed his face, then looked curiously at Greg and sighed in that resigned, 'idiots, I'm surrounded by idiots' manner. "Just to get it out of the way, since you have questions. No, we aren't. Yes, we love each other, but not like, you know..."

"Uh-huh."

"So, if you barge into my, our bedroom looking for me, you will usually find him," Sherlock nodded towards John in the kitchen, who was putting their tea together. "Clear?"

"As mud. But that's neither here, nor there. Doesn't matter to me, long as you can still do your -"

"Magic tricks?" Sherlock's eyes glittered and he smiled at the DI. Again, Greg blinked and shook his head. He'd have to get used to this, somehow.

"Uhm, yeah. Just so I know, are you going to be like this on crime scenes?"

"Like what?" Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him, then turned as John entered the room, carrying tea. He looked up at him with thanks as John handed him his mug.  
"Σας ευχαριστούμε η καρδιά μου."

"You just smiled, and then you, if I remember any of my Greek correctly, just thanked him and called him..."

"So, the smiling...problem?" Sherlock took a sip of tea and closed his eyes.

"You don't smile."

John nodded his agreement, finished his bite of toast and muttered, "you don't, normally, not a thing you do. Yeah, the smiling bit, might throw people off."

Sherlock groaned into his tea. "Right. No smiling, anything else?"

"I'll give you notes after, yeah?" 

"How did you know what he said to me?" John asked after a moment.

"My grandmother, my ya-ya. That's all she spoke. So, I could speak it, read it, think I dreamed in it until she passed. Didn't know you two -"

"Sherlock could, I learned it there while we were on holiday."

Greg almost choked on his tea. "You 'learned' it in a week?" 

"He's a natural." Sherlock looked over at John and their eyes locked.

"Okay, yeah, that too - that thing - no looking at each other like that -"

"Like what?" Sherlock muttered.

"Like two blokes in love."

John laughed. "Leave it at home, yeah?" 

"It's a bit, uhm."

"That obvious?" Sherlock whispered.

"Yeah. How about I talk you through what I got, you can chew on it a bit, then see what is what."

John nodded and Sherlock shrugged. "Didn't want to leave the flat today anyway," he grumbled into his empty mug.

Lestrade pulled out several photos. "Four murders, victims all found in libraries, with a copy of Alice in Wonderland put into their hand after death. Each one has a quote underlined in red...First was a poisoning..."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Don't tell me...'Drink me?'"

Lestrade grinned at him. "Nope. 'Begin at the beginning,' the King said, very gravely, 'and go on till you come to the end: then stop.'"

Sherlock's eyes lit up. "Oooooh...interesting, what kind of poison? Tell me you know. Tell me you got Molly to..."

"We didn't know what it was until she saw the signs, thought it was just a simple heart attack, just an older gentleman reading quietly at the library. Luckily, we, Anderson, yes...Anderson picked up the book, yes, he used gloves...and he saw the red ink. So I made Molly run every test in the book. Didn't need to tell her, she found a needle mark in his neck, and she found nicotine..."

"Was he a smoker?" John asked.

"Yeah, Molly could tell from his teeth and fingers, longtime smoker, but she thinks it was an injection of liquid nicotine with something else, she can't id the other drug yet, but it was enough nicotine to 'kill a whole room of you lot,' I believe her direct quote was."

"Anyway, thought it was a bit odd, but just a one off until the week you guys were off on your beach holiday while we froze our -"

"Case, Graeme - Greg. Case?"

"Right." He took a sip of lukewarm tea and pulled out the next photo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Σας ευχαριστούμε η καρδιά μου = Thank you, my heart


	5. Very Competent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"'That's very curious!' she thought. 'But everything's curious today.'"_ -Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland, Chapter 6

With a smirk, Lestrade held the photograph just out of Sherlock's reach. "This one's tricky. Molly still doesn't..."

"You keep saying her name." Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the detective. "Why do you keep saying her name?"

Bewildered, Lestrade huffed. "Look, just because _you_ don't call people by their proper names..."

"I have made a concerted effort to call you by your name, Gavi- Greg. This is different. If you refer to her at all, you call her Dr. Hooper. Until today. Why?"

"What are you on about?"

John stood from his spot, took the photo from Lestrade's hand and leaned against the arm of Sherlock's chair studying it intently. "Let the man be, Sherlock."

"But he..." Sherlock gestured with a flap of his hand.

"Oh!" John looked up from the photo with a smug look. "Brilliant." Lestrade and Sherlock both stared at him in confusion. John handed the photo to Sherlock.

"Asphyxiation?"

John cocked an eyebrow at him and grinned.

Sherlock studied the victim once more. "Not strangulation. He wasn't smothered..."

"He drowned!" John tapped the photo and Sherlock studied the bloody foamy residue in the corners of the victim's mouth.

"Damn it. How did you..." Lestrade shook his head. "Too much time together, you two."

Suddenly defensive, Sherlock took John's hand in his. "John is a very competent doctor. His skills have nothing to do with his proximity to me."

"Σας ευχαριστούμε, η καρδιά μου." John leaned into Sherlock's shoulder.

Lestrade rolled his eyes. "Compliments?" Sherlock huffed in response and turned back to the photograph. "And..."

"Physical contact." John sighed. He released Sherlock's hand and moved to stand up. "God, this is going to be hard."

With a grumble of frustration, Sherlock grabbed John's hand and pulled him back to sit on the arm of his chair. He looked pointedly at Lestrade. "We will take your observations under advisement while on a case, but as you have imposed yourself into our... home... you will kindly keep your opinions to yourself. If you are uncomfortable with our..." Sherlock looked up at John and, to Lestrade's amazement, his features softened and he smiled, "... _this,_ then you can see yourself out."

They stared at one other a moment, Sherlock silently challenging Lestrade, and Lestrade looking once more bewildered. "You're right." He shook his head. "You're right. I'm sorry. You two are happy, everyone else can sod off."

"Thanks, Greg." John nodded and squeezed Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock nodded once. "Now, the case... The victim drowned." Looked up at John with admiration. "John was correct."

Lestrade laughed. "He was. I still don't..." He carded his hand over his hair. "Mol- er, Dr. Hooper found traces of salt water and our mystery poison in his lungs."

"Just traces..." Sherlock examined the photograph. "He wasn't submerged, his hair and clothes are pristine."

"Dry drowning." John stated, and took the photo back to examine it. "Seen it before. Shouldn't be possible for a bloke to drown in the middle of the desert with no water in sight... but he did."

Sherlock hummed. "The near drowning happened prior, he survived that, but traces of water remain in the lungs. You said salt water?" 

"Salt water and poison" Lestrade nodded. "And that's the problem." He glanced up at Sherlock and shook his head. "Molly ran all the tests. It doesn't appear to be sea water, or even saline. She thinks it's treated water, for an aquarium."

Steepling his fingers under his chin, Sherlock considered the information. "But the victim has no aquarium. Neither does his place of employment." Greg nodded.

John stood abruptly and dug through a stack of medical journals on the bookshelf. He pulled one out, flipped through the pages, dropped it and picked up another. 

"John?"

He folded the pages of the journal open, skimmed over the page and handed it to Sherlock. "Greg, do they still have the victim's inhaler in evidence?" He pointed to the inhaler in the photo next to the victim. 

"Yes..."

"It's been tampered with. Have the lab check the canister. It'll be salt water and the unidentified poison. Have them check the chemist's label too."

"Are you..." Lestrade fished his mobile from his pocket and looked at Sherlock. "He's serious."

Sherlock chuckled. " _Very_ competent." 

"Right." Lestrade stepped into the kitchen to make his call.

"Λαμπρή, ο γιατρός μου," Sherlock murmured. He indicated the article about the tainted inhalers. John took the journal back and tossed it to the table, and sat on the arm of Sherlock's chair. 

He glanced at Lestrade and kept his voice low. "He doesn't know."

Brow furrowed, Sherlock searched John's face.

"He hasn't realized he has feelings for Molly yet." John took Sherlock's hand. "He needs to figure it out for himself." Sherlock nodded in understanding.

Lestrade stepped back into the sitting room and grinned. "Bloody brilliant, mate. Anderson checked the label, and it was a fake. They're testing the contents now." He shook his head and sat in John's chair. "First real lead we've had in days."

Sherlock squeezed John's hand and smiled. "So, the salt water... Alice's pool of tears."

Greg nodded and handed Sherlock a photograph of an open copy of Alice in Wonderland with a passage underlined in red. "'Give your evidence,' said the King; 'and don't be nervous, or I'll have you executed on the spot.'" 

"Fascinating." Sherlock's eyes flashed with excitement. "Next victim?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Σας ευχαριστούμε, η καρδιά μου - thank you, my heart 
> 
> Λαμπρή, ο γιατρός μου - brilliant, my doctor


	6. Lights Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...she tried to fancy what the flame of a candle is like after the candle is blown out, for she could not remember ever having seen such a thing."  
> \- Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland, Chapter 1

"Zzzzzzzzsssssssttt!"

John rolled his eyes and sighed. "Another power outage... they seem to be following us." He stood and glanced out the window. "Greg, it's getting worse, you might want to leave the photos with us, and we'll see what we can come up with?"

Lestrade nodded his thanks and threw his coat back on. It was still light enough for him to find his way out to his car, but he was back in less than two minutes. "Uhm...guys...I uhm..."

"Left your lights on?" Sherlock muttered without looking up. John was rebuilding the fire and shook his head. 

"Καρδιά μου? Get the candles, think they are next to the tea? You can crash on the couch, for as long as you need, the snow can't last forever..."

Sherlock groaned and muttered something in Greek about idiots and wondered aloud when the next flight was back home, but put the photos down and went into the kitchen, and returned with a dusty box of candles that had been there since who knows when, and a box of matches.

John took the candles and matches from him and gave him a look. Sherlock sighed and got out pillows and sheets to start making up the couch, when they heard footsteps running up the stairs.

"Sher-oh, great, you're out of power too - is Gr - er - DI Lestrade here? Oh, there you are." Molly Hooper let out a sigh of relief. "Donovan said you'd stopped over here, but wasn't sure whether you were - Oh. Hi John -"

"Molly." John glared at Sherlock who was about to say something. Sherlock quickly shut his mouth and continued to make up the couch.

"How was your holiday?" Molly asked, her eyes never leaving Lestrade's.

"Perfect, we're thinking of going back on the next available flight..." John dusted his hands off on his trousers and gave her a hug. She turned and looked down, noticing the crime scene photos scattered on the coffee table. 

"Strange case, huh? Any ideas yet, Sherlock?"

"Oh, probably just some laid off Carroll scholar, who has nothing better to do with his time, so he is going around town knocking off random people in libraries, and leaving copies of Alice in Wonderland next to the bodies - are the books new editions?"

"No - they have all been books that had been in the collection of the library where the bodies are found. He or she assumes that every library has a copy or two of Alice...Molly - "

"Hmmm?"

"Go sit down, Lestrade won't bite - unl-"

"Do not complete that thought, Sherlock." John glared at him.

Lestrade made room for Molly on the couch.

"Kitchen, kαρδιά μου, now." John yanked Sherlock from his chair and pulled him into the kitchen.

"What?" Sherlock crossed his arms, but couldn't meet John's eyes.

"Let them be."

"Oh, come on, they've tap danced around one another since that Christmas party - you know when - "

"I know," John pinched his nose and groaned. "but we shouldn't interfere or -"

Sherlock turned and looked back at the couch.

 

"I was uhm, worried. I couldn't get you on your phone. I thought you might be -"

"I'm fine. I was an idiot, forgot I was driving my own, it doesn't automatically shut down the lights if you forget like the squad cars do..."

 

"Maybe we should, uhm, go down and check the fuse box and let them - "

"Sherlock - "

"We are going to see if it's the fuses - back in a moment."

"Sher-"

"John. He's been divorced since, who knows when and she, she has always had a I don't know, a 'thing' for him..."

John looked at Sherlock and sighed. "Make yourselves at home, won't be long..."

 

"Since when have you been paying attention to how Molly feels?"

"I realised when Lestrade was calling her Molly, I suddenly realised what the looks she gave him meant, and now that I know, how it feels to - you know...I don't want them to lose any more time."

"Sherlock Holmes, matchmaker?"

"I consider them friends, the closest people to family here, and I -"

"Το ξέρω και εγώ το ίδιο." John held Sherlock's hands in his and whispered, "I love your heart, Αγάπη μου."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Το ξέρω και εγώ το ίδιο = I know me too.
> 
> Αγάπη μου = Beloved


	7. About Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'Oh, 'tis love, 'tis love, that makes the world go round!'  
> "'Somebody said,' Alice whispered, 'that it's done by everybody minding their own business!'" - Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland, Chapter 9

Sherlock pulled John into a hug and sighed. "Ευχαριστώ καρδιά μου." Illuminated by the soft glow of the pen light from his med kit, John looked up at him with questioning eyes and a warm smile.

"You saw my heart when no one else ever took the time to look for it, when I thought I had no use for it." Sherlock sighed, content to remain in that spot indefinitely.

"You saw _me_ when no one else did. Your heart was not so difficult to find as you seem to think." John rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder. He huffed a laugh.

"Hmm?"

"We can't stay here on the landing." John chuckled. "We're supposed to be checking fuses. And we haven't been to the shops, so we should see what Mrs. Hudson has in her pantry...  And we've guests..."

Sherlock grumbled. "They're probably being amorous on our couch."

"Oi! Shut it!" John laughed and shoved Sherlock away.

"I use that couch. We'll need to burn it."

"Leaving them unsupervised was your idea." John laughed, took Sherlock's hand and ushered him down to Mrs. Hudson's flat.

 

* * *

 

"Does Sherlock seem... different to you?" Molly stared at the dark doorway Sherlock had practically shoved John through. She glanced back at Lestrade, who had been staring at her. Greg blinked and cleared his throat. Molly shivered.

"Shit... uh, sorry Molly... Here." He jumped up and helped her wrap the blankets around her. "You must be frozen though... Uhm..."

"Greg..."

"Oh, I know, won't be a moment." Greg dashed up the stairs to John's room, using his mobile for light. Molly heard something crash to the ground and couldn’t help but giggle. Greg stumbled down the steps.

"John's not going to be happy." She grinned up at him.

"Nothing could be as bad as if I'd touched Sherlock's sock index..."

"No."

"Heard all about it one pub night." He chuckled, and held out what he'd gone upstairs for -- one of John's jumpers and a few pair of socks. "I'm sure he won't mind... Probably won't even notice..." He murmured the last bit.

"Hmm? What was that?" Molly pulled the ugly geometric jumper over her own gaudy fluffy jumper and wrapped the blankets more tightly around her.

"Ah... Sorry. Maybe they- uh, he should expl... damn. Sherlock and John..."

"Figured a few things out?"

Greg thought he saw a fleeting hint of sadness cross Molly's face, but then she just looked extraordinarily relieved. He could only nod in wonder.

"It's about damn time, yeah?" Molly giggled. She looked up into Greg's eyes and shivered again.

"Yeah. Yeah it is." Greg smiled and looked down at the socks in his hand. "May I?"

Eyes wide, Molly's breath caught and she nodded. With a devious half grin, Greg scooped her up off the couch and sat her gingerly in John's armchair, scooting it around to face the fire more directly. He knelt down and undid her sodden trainers, not even proper boots, and pulled off her socks.

"You shouldn't have come. It's too bad out there, but..." Greg rubbed the warmth back into her toes and then pulled a pair of John's thick wool socks over Molly's feet.

"Greg..." She barely managed a whisper.

" _...but_ I'm glad you did."

Molly shivered again.

"Still cold?" Concern etched on his face, Greg sat up on his knees. Molly shook her head, _no._ "Then what, Molly?"

Blinking rapidly, a blush crept over her cheeks. Before she could talk herself out of it, Molly leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss across Greg's lips. "Thank you."

Greg laughed and carded his hand over his hair. "No... I, uhm..." He met her eyes and she nodded.

 

* * *

 

They made as much noise as possible on their way back up the stairs, arms laden with Mrs. Hudson's food and Mrs. Hudson's extra blankets.

"The third victim was clearly beaten to death with a blunt object. Judging by the size of the bruising, and considering the Alice in Wonderland theme, I'd say probably a croquet mallet." Sherlock made sure to project his voice.

John muffled a laugh, elbowed him, and cleared his throat. "I didn't recognize that library. A private collection, you think?"

"I believe so." It was ridiculous how much control Sherlock had over his voice, and how well he was playing this. John thought the stage certainly had been robbed a great talent. "There was a photograph of the open book on the desk, separate from the body for the first time. And next to it, a tea service."

"The mystery poison?" John tried to play it cool, but snickered and coughed. Sherlock shot him a look.

"Indeed," Sherlock gritted his teeth. "And the passage included was a rather short one -- 'Consider your verdict...'" He pushed the door open and came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Greg and Molly lost in a passionate kiss. John crashed into his back.

"Damn it, Sherlo... Oh."

Greg sat back on his heels, looking guilty, attempting to catch his breath. Molly's nervous giggle took over, and she buried her face in the blankets.

"At least they're in your chair, and we don't have to burn the couch. I'm rather fond of that couch." Sherlock smirked, looking rather pleased with himself.

"ηλίθιος." John huffed, grabbed Sherlock by the back of his shirt, and dragged him into the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ευχαριστώ καρδιά μου - Thank you my heart  
>    
> ηλίθιος - idiot


	8. What now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Keep your temper, said the Caterpillar.”   
> ― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

Sherlock's arms wrapped around John and their foreheads met, finally a moment of -

"NOW what!?" Sherlock growled as he heard Anthea's stiletto boots tap confidently up the steps; somehow, no matter the weather, she was always perfectly put together. John shook his head and sighed as he opened the door and allowed her into the flat. She didn't voice an opinion, or even raise a curious well-sculpted eyebrow at Lestrade and Molly, just handed over the file and was about to depart when John spoke.

"If you'd like, we have scrounged up a decent tea, no tea, I'm afraid, but we have biscuits and can make sandwiches...."

"No. Thank you all the same, Dr. Watson. Mr. Holmes was insistent you needed this file tonight." She nodded at Lestrade, "he thought it probable the DI would be contacting you about the same case."

"The same case?" Lestrade muttered. "Oh no, he doesn't. Not again. This is MY case, I am NOT-"

"Relax. DI Lestrade, Mr. Holmes understands that you and his brother are best suited for this particular type of investigation, you both are equipped with 'imagination' was I believe the word he used..."

Sherlock huffed in annoyance. "Right, 'Anthea,' I'm sure that's the word he used." He looked at the file John had handed him and drew in a surprised breath. "Baskerville? What the hell does Baskerville have to do with this?"

"I'm sure I don't know, that is your job to figure out, is it not? Sirs and Miss?" Anthea bowed toward the room, then turned on her heel and disappeared down the stairs, and back into the storm that showed no sign of slowing down.


	9. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _'I'm glad they've begun asking riddles.—I believe I can guess that,' she added aloud._  
>  'Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?' said the March Hare.  
> 'Exactly so,' said Alice.  
> -Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland, Chapter 7

"What is Mycroft playing at?" Greg demanded as he pushed himself up to stand in front of Sherlock.

Sherlock flipped through the file. There were clearly pages missing, some of the pages were torn or burnt, and everything else appeared highly redacted. Sherlock seethed as he stomped to his chair in order to see by the light of the fireplace.

"Sherlock? C'mon. What does Baskerville have to do with all of this?" Greg had gone pale, even in the dim light, and Molly was startled by the haunted look on his face.

"Baskerville? Isn't that..." Molly stepped up next to Greg and took his hand in both of hers.

"Yeah. We don't talk about it. Godawful, that's what it was." Greg shook his head. "And if I never set foot there again, it would be too soon."

"The last murder." Sherlock looked up from the file and held out his hand expectantly. Greg and Molly stared at him. He snapped his fingers and huffed. "Photographs. Stop being slow Graham."

Molly snorted. "Knew that was too good to last," Greg grumbled as he retrieved the stack of photographs.

The photo on top was of the copy of Alice in Wonderland with the phrase, "Off with her head!" underlined in red, and resting in the victim's hand. The phrase wasn't underlined just once. Every time any threat of beheading or execution was mentioned in the story, it was underlined in red.

The victim had been decapitated. Rather, the murderer had attempted to behead her, but the tools that had been used were ill suited for the task. It would have been a gruesome, agonizing death.

"Was the mystery substance found in her system? It's not in your report, Molly." Sherlock was flipping between Mycroft's file and the fourth victim's photos.

"Still waiting on a few tests to come back. The blackout is going to be a problem. But yes, we did find evidence of..."

"How was it administered?"

Molly rolled her eyes. Sherlock was in case solving mode. "Implanted I.V. port, victim was a cancer patient."

Sherlock and Greg both looked at her, then glanced at each other.

"Bloody hell." Greg scrubbed his hand over his face. "But still, how does this..."

"Like this," Sherlock stood and shoved the crime scene photo of the fourth victim's face into Greg's hand, and then flipped the file open to a damaged yet still visible photograph of their victim. It was a few years old, but definitely her.

"It appears our victim was lead scientist, working on a substance referred to only by a series of numbers. The components of which have been either blacked out or destroyed." Sherlock threw himself back into his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. "We'll find all of the victims are connected to the experiment, I'm sure."

"Without the file, do you think you can reverse engineer the poison to figure out what it is?" Molly took the file from Greg and stood near the fire to read what she could.

Sherlock scoffed and didn't dignify her with an answer.   

"John, you may need to make your resignation from the surgery sooner than anticipated, as..."

"Wait. Hold up." Greg held up his hands to stop Sherlock from talking. "Resignation?"

Sherlock shrugged, and his features softened for a moment. "We've a three phase plan that ultimately ends back in Greece. John's retiring to be more involved in my work..."

"So what, you're just going to solve as many crimes as you can and then leave?" Greg was near shouting as he stood directly in front of Sherlock.

"That's phase two, actually..."

"Where will you go? How will you survive?" Molly's eyes were wide with uncertainty.

"We've a house..."

"The two of you go away for one sodding week, and come back all handsy, John's learned Greek, and you've got a house together." Greg dropped his arms to his side and exhaled deeply. "I don't..."

"Brilliant, detective, now let's get on with the case. As I was saying, a visit back to Baskerville may be in order."

At the pained groan, everyone turned to see John, arms crossed over his chest, staring blankly out the window.

"John, you know it's the best way. You know my methods." Sherlock huffed.

John didn't even acknowledge he'd been spoken to.

"John?" Sherlock stood and nearly shoved Greg out of his way. "John." In a few short steps he was at John's side.

Without looking away from the storm outside, John whispered, "Sherlock, I can't."

"I know you are the type of person who is bound by such social constructs as giving notice, but this is urgent. More people could die." Sherlock tried playing to John's empathetic side. "We can help them."

John finally turned toward Sherlock then with a grim look on his face. He kept his voice very low. "No, not that. I can't go back there. I won't."

"John..."

"No, Sherlock." John’s voice remained steady. Even. Calculated. "You and Greg and Henry were all drugged in the woods. Y-you drugged me in the lab." Sherlock groaned. "We were stalked by a murderous beast, which I had to shoot and kill. And then we watched a man walk into mine field." John shook his head. "We never discussed it, and it's fine. Now it's fine. But... I can't."

Sherlock reached for him, but John shook his head and brushed past him. Without another word, John made his way quietly to their bedroom. Sherlock released the breath he'd been holding, relieved that John hadn't hidden away upstairs.

"Sherlock?" Molly took a few steps toward him.

"Look, I can go so he doesn't have to... I'm happy to. I had no idea. It just never came up..." Greg stammered.

"You two make yourselves at home. But not too comfortable." Sherlock glanced dubiously at the couch. "This..." He motioned after John, and looked truly heartbroken. He opened his mouth to speak, shook his head, and followed after John.

He knocked on the door once, a courtesy he had never extended anyone before, and opened the door slowly. John was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows propped on his knees, face in his hands. He'd changed into his pyjamas.

"Κουρασμένος." John shrugged when Sherlock sat next to him, "αγάπη μου."

"John. Καρδιά μου."

"I had nightmares for weeks after that case. I tried to hide it."

"You should have said something. I would have..."

John huffed. "You wouldn't, or couldn't, have done anything. After that there were cases, and Moriarty, and then... We weren't exactly open and honest with each other during those days."

"Do you want to..."

John nodded. Sherlock quickly got changed and scooted to lean back on the pillows and headboard. John leaned back into his chest and released a shuddering breath.

"I still see Doctor Frankland, in my nightmares..."

Sherlock turned on the ocean sound on John's mobile and then wrapped his arms around him. "We won't go."

"You can if you need to. Take Greg..."

"If we don't go together, I'll not go. I can solve it from here."

John sighed and relaxed against Sherlock. "I'm sorry, Sherlock."

Sherlock shushed him. "Rest now, Καρδιά μου. We've a murderer to catch."

 

_We're not going to Baskerville, if that's what you intended. SH_

_Your investigation may suffer for it. MH_

_You could never understand. SH_

_I might surprise you. MH_

_What the hell does that mean? SH_

_Never mind. Not interested. SH_

_Are there digital records? SH_

_I have a team working on it. I'll send them as soon as I have them. MH_

_Thank you. SH_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Κουρασμένος - tired
> 
> αγάπη μου - I will be all right
> 
> Καρδιά μου - my heart


	10. Some answers...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Alice laughed: "There's no use trying," she said; "one can't believe impossible things."  
> "I daresay you haven't had much practice," said the Queen. "When I was younger, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."
> 
> -Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass

"Sherlock! Wake up, please?" Molly's voice broke through Sherlock's dream of the sunset, John, by his side...damn.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, the weak winter sun lit the room; somehow he had managed to fall asleep at some point the night before. He looked around. Not the cottage. Right. Baker Street. Case. There was a case. John. Baskerville. John. Focus on John...

He stretched, looked at the time - already six in the morning. He got up and pushed past Molly who looked confused and afraid, mostly confused.

"Sherlock! John's gone. He said you'd understand. He was babbling away in Greek, I couldn't make him stop, then he took a deep breath and he said, 'Just tell Sherlock I need some air.'"

"It's okay, Molly." Sherlock sighed and checked the lights, somehow they were working. Tea, he needed tea and toast. "Do you want some toast, Molly?"

"What do you mean, it's okay? There is at least two feet of snow outside, and John, who is at the very least your friend, if nothing else, has gone for a bloody walk - "

"Molly!" Sherlock looked at her in surprise and she covered her mouth.

"Sorry. I - he just looked so, not John. Will you please try to explain what the hell - sorry, but you guys have uhm - well, changed, a bit, since you've been gone." She looked down at Greg, who nodded his agreement.

Greg yawned and muttered, "you two are, uhm...different? Not just the sleeping thing, it's the sleeping thing with the looks and the handsy whatever the hell all that is. I'm going to throw on my coat and boots and bring him back - it's too damn - "

"No."

"Whaddya mean, 'No.'?"

"He's fine."

"'He's fine.' Right. Sit down. Talk."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Can I at least put the kettle on? I know I need some tea, assuming you both could use some, and Molly, he will need help getting up."

"No, I don' - okay, so maybe the chair wasn't the best place to sleep." Greg tried to move, but the glares from Sherlock and Molly stopped him.

"There was another bedroom." Sherlock looked at them both and shook his head. "Oh, for crying out loud - you gave her the bed. Chivalry isn't dead; that's the kindest word for stupidity I can come up with before tea. Congratulations, Detective. How long did it take for you to get back to work when you hurt your back the last time?"

Greg grumbled. "A month."

"A month. Let her fix your back for you, she already offered, yes?"

"Yes...Molly, there are pillows in the bedroom - once you are settled, I will attempt to explain, just don't interrupt, and I will not repeat this story; it's up to you whether you believe it or not. It is what it is. We are what we are..."

Tea was made, Molly had managed to get Greg onto the floor with his shirt off. He was nearly comatose by the time Sherlock had settled into a perch on his chair. "John and I first met - "

"-at the lab. Yes we know."

"No. No interruptions."

"Sorry." Molly covered her mouth.

"We first met when he was eight and I was six."

"Wha-?" Greg started, but Molly shushed him with a look.

"At least in this lifetime."

Greg's eyebrows shot up but he shut his mouth. Molly only nodded and whispered,"I knew it."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her. "Explain."

"There was something about the two of you, always. I saw how you both looked at the other, even before you - you know."

Sherlock nodded. "Go on."

"It just seemed like you were afraid to lose him, if you let him know, and I think he felt the same way. Because neither of you understood; you, because you're you -"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but sighed his agreement.

"And John, because, he couldn't define you in his head, you didn't make sense, not in a way he could understand, he just knew he couldn't leave you. Then, when you left..."

Sherlock closed his eyes but nodded for her to continue.

"He knew you weren't dead. No, not that way, he didn't guess, I didn't tell him, I swear. One night I brought him dinner, and he was sleeping on the couch, kind of sleeping, and he was talking to you, like you were kids, and he was trying to find you, you were stuck in some rocks?"

Sherlock rubbed his face with his hands, then spoke quietly, in a voice Molly had never heard before. "We met on a holiday one summer, just that one summer, five days, then we didn't see one another again until the lab. I saw him climbing some rocks and followed after him, but I fell, and got trapped. He got hurt getting me out, he still has the scar - that's how we finally figured it out. We went on holiday to get out of the snow and just to talk; we ended up in a Greek village, where my parents had gone on honeymoon and holidays before I was born, they knew us, not just because we are famous, but they knew us, knew our hearts. If that makes sense. That's the short version. I know John is fine, because I know where he is. I can see him, in my head. No. Not where he is exactly. I know this sounds...impossible, but there are times, when we need to be apart, to sort things out - but we always know - because, we are together."

Molly nodded her understanding. She got up from the floor where Greg had fallen asleep five minutes earlier, and she stood in front of Sherlock. "I understand." Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief, and she smiled at him. After a moment, they both jumped as John pushed open the door with his foot, as both arms were full of a very wet, very scruffy dog.

"You promised me a dog, or I promised you one, either way, this one followed me home, and she's staying. Her name is - "

"Don't say it."

"Bluebell." John grinned at Sherlock as he put Bluebell down, and she made her way to Sherlock. He more or less fell out of his chair to get to her. "And we are going to Baskerville."

"No. John. You don't have to." Sherlock shook his head. "I've already -"

"Αγάπη μου. It's the only way. You know that. We both know that. We came back for this, this case is why we are back. This case is why we couldn't stay in Greece, we weren't finished yet. Your work, our work, isn't done here."


	11. Crazy Little Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance."_  
>  -Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland, Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the applause for the footnote tale goes to notjustmom.

"How angry was Molly?" John kept his voice low and leaned back to catch a glimpse of her moving about the kitchen.

"At you or at me?" Sherlock rolled his eyes. He and John were knelt side-by-side, his left shoulder pressed to John's right, in front of the fire. They were using a small throw blanket to rub Bluebell dry. For her part, the dog was laying quite contentedly gnawing on a section of beef femur* Sherlock just "happened" to have in the freezer, and that John was all too happy to be rid of.

"Why would she be mad at you? I'm the one who couldn't..." John shook his head and sighed. Sherlock took his hand and held it with both of his, applying grounding, reassuring pressure. "Αγάπη μου, λυπάμαι."

"καρδιά μου. You know you owe me no apologies. I knew you would be careful, that you'd come back when you were ready. I knew..." He laid one of his hands over John's heart. Bluebell huffed and looked back over her shoulder at Sherlock's hand not petting her, then up to Sherlock's face with expectant, and a bit accusing, hazel eyes. John laughed.

"Oh god. This dog is too smart already."

"Obviously. She found you." Sherlock flexed his fingers against John's chest once, and then returned to drying off the dog.

John huffed a laugh and scratched Bluebell behind her ears. "So, Molly..."

"She was just worried about you. She and Greg both. But she was angry that I wasn't worried, that I wouldn't go after you or let Greg go." Sherlock sighed. "I tried to explain. I told them about us..."

"John Hamish Watson!" Molly stormed into the sitting room from the kitchen, eye flashing, hands on her hips.

"Why does she know my middle name?" John glared at Sherlock.

"I couldn't... I... After you told me, I had to tell someone. It's hilarious, you have to admit." Sherlock made a valiant effort to suppress a smile.

John narrowed his eyes at Sherlock. Molly cleared her throat. They both turned to face her as she scooped John's snow damp coat from his chair where he'd tossed it.

"I told you to get out of those wet things and to get into a hot bath." She checked her watch. "Fifteen minutes ago. You leave that filthy dog alone..."

"Oi!" John reached behind him and put his hand on Bluebell's head.

"Her name is Bluebell and she's not filthy!" Sherlock pouted.

"Well, she's a little bit filthy. I did find her outside." John murmured to Sherlock.

"We should bathe her!"

"Stop!" Molly crossed her arms over her chest. "Do you two hear yourselves? Just because you've realized you were children when you met doesn't give you permission to act like children now..."

Sherlock leaned into John and whispered in his ear, "she must not have been paying attention."

John tried to stifle a chuckle with a cough. He settled for a short gigglesnort.

Molly sighed. "John, you're still wearing your boots for godsake. Your clothes are soaking wet. You're still at risk for hypothermia, and you know it. You're a doctor and just weeks shy of forty-five years old. Let's act it, shall we?"

"Yes mum," John snarked.

"John." There was a hint of warning in Molly's voice.

John rolled his eyes and glanced at Sherlock. Brow furrowed in concern, Sherlock was scrutinizing him. "God, John. You're shivering and your lips are practically blue." He pushed John backwards so he was sitting flat in the floor, and started undoing his boots.

"Sherlock, get off." John attempted to scoot away, but Bluebell crawled across his lap and he swore she grinned up at him. "Traitors. Both of you." He huffed.

"Bath. Dry clothes. Breakfast." Molly stated firmly. John grunted in response, and Sherlock snorted. "And you," she turned on Sherlock, "You're calling your brother and having some breakfast. Then you two idiots can play with your dog. But not until then."

Sherlock groaned, but finished pulling John's damp socks off and helped him to his feet. "Come, καρδιά μου." He led John to the loo, got the hot water running, and gathered John's warmest jumper and softest corduroys for him.

"Sherlock, you don't have to..."

"John, you've got to take care of yourself. We promised each other." Sherlock blinked a few times.

Taking his clothes from Sherlock’s hands, John pulled him into an embrace. "Thank you, καρδιά μου. I promise. Now go talk to your brother... sneak us into a secret government facility."

Sherlock held John for a few moments more, and then left him to his bath.

 

_We'll go. SH_

_A car will be waiting tomorrow morning at ten. MH_

_Your contact when you arrive will be Dr. Stapleton. Please try to play nice. MH_

_And lodging has been arranged for the duration. MH_

_You really are insufferable. SH_

_Good morning to you as well. And please express my congratulations to D.I. Lestrade and Miss Hooper on their successful coupling. MH_

 

Sherlock gagged, pulled a face, tossed the mobile away, and dropped the toast he'd been eating down to Bluebell. He pushed himself away from the table with a loud scrape, upsetting the dog, and started tearing through the bookshelves.

Molly started at his sudden rage. "Sherlock, what's wrong?"

"Ha!" He turned just as John stepped into the sitting room. "We had an intruder while we were away." Sherlock dropped a small camera on the table in front of Molly.

"Damn." John snorted.

"What?" Molly's eyes went wide.

"Somewhere within the deepest pits of MI6 there exists a recording of whatever it is you and Greg got up to last night." He paused for dramatic effect. "And my brother is aware of it."

Molly flushed bright. "It wasn't anything. Not really... Oh god." She buried face in her hands.

"Hmmm?" Greg mumbled from his nest of pillows on the floor.

"Nothing." Molly squeaked. "Nothing, love. Go back to sleep."

"Mhmm -- d'you juss say love?" Greg's eyes flew open.

Mortified, Molly looked from Greg's stunned face to John's bemused smirk to Sherlock's cocked-eyebrow-all-knowing gaze, and back to Greg, whose look had morphed into something dopey and warm. She groaned and made a dash for John’s bedroom.

 

* * *

 

 

_***The Case of the Leg of Cow (or why John no longer eats beef)** _

_It seemed to be an easy case, and they both needed a breather from the city( at the time, they both had stopped having nightmares about the pool, though Sherlock was already planning for the fall to come); the client actually was one of those few 'regular' readers of Sherlock's blog, which of course made him smirk all through the train ride to...where was it..._

_oh yes, Cornwall..._

_"No, it was Reading you're thinking of, Καρδιά μου."_

_"No. C, Cow = Cornwall, R, Roses = Reading."_

_Sherlock narrowed his eyes at his companion over the top of his book. "That's how you kept track of our cases?"_

_"Mhmmm...problem?" John was busy making dinner and didn't look up._

_"No...s'pose not...was it the abattoir that put you off beef?"_

_"Hmmm...no, not exactly, I think it was that the only thing I could think of every time you ordered beef was the Monty Python Abattoir skit, then I thought back to the abattoir, then how you almost lost a hand...and how the only payment we got for solving the case sat in the freezer for years until Bluebell needed a chew toy..."_

_"Ah, yes....what's for dinner tonight?"_

_"Salad."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Αγάπη μου, λυπάμαι - Love, I am sorry
> 
> καρδιά μου - my heart
> 
> _____________
> 
> We like to think Bluebell looks a bit like this (intelligent, smug, and pretty -- just like her human companions)...
> 
>  


	12. The Game is...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time as she went down to look about her and to wonder what was going to happen next."  
> -Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland, Chapter 1

Of course, no one slept that night; Bluebell never left John's side, happily gnawing the femur at his feet, as her rescuer stared unseeing into the fire. Sherlock tried to keep his mind focused on the case, but he found himself picking up his violin and playing for John, he told himself; in reality, he realised he needed a distraction, Baskerville.... he was never quite able to delete it completely. He wasn't sure why, whether he needed to remind himself what absolute terror felt like or how close he had come to destroying their partnership during that case. They didn't speak; eventually Sherlock put the instrument away, and John glanced up to find his eyes and they shared a look that said everything. Sherlock nodded and began to repack their bags, replacing their swim trunks with jumpers and thermals.

 

"Molly? If it helps, not sure it does, uhm, I've loved you for years. Jus' was afraid, of ruinin' our working relationship, our friendship...and I'm arse at - " He stopped talking as the door opened and a slender hand reached out to pull him inside the room.

 

It was cold, but the snow had stopped, and the sun was slowly making its appearance when John heard voices in the kitchen. He blinked at their room, still somewhat growing accustomed to the new arrangements. It had happened so effortlessly, becoming whatever they were now. John closed his eyes and sighed, then rolled over to look at the sleeping man next to him. There was nothing outwardly different about him; the same dark curls that tended to drift into his eyes, the eyebrows that could dance in merriment or scowl defiantly, the hard angles and the softly parted lips...

"I haven't changed, John, and yet, everything is - "

"different." Sherlock nodded and reached out for him, wrapping him in his arms. They laid there silently for a couple of hours; eventually, Bluebell made her presence at the end of the bed known, stretching and gracefully dropping to the floor, turning to look back at them before she walked out of the room.

"She thinks we're lazy, she knows she'll get breakfast from Molly. Smart girl."

John pushed up on his side and looked down at Sherlock, then touched his face gently. "We will be alright, we aren't the same people who went last time. I trust you, you know that, don't you?"

Sherlock blinked at him for a moment and John was surprised to see tears stream down the sharp cheekbones. "Καρδιά μου?"

"Hmmm....I just never thought you'd - I -" Sherlock shook his head, and covered his face with both hands. "I've let you down, so many times, I don't understand how you can -"

"If I can't trust my other half - " John took Sherlock's right hand and placed it over his own chest. "- you are - there aren't words for what you mean to me, I gave you my heart long ago, long before memory."

"John." John pulled Sherlock into his arms and held on as his strong, beautiful, brilliant man let go of everything, finally. 

"We are not simply our pasts, love, we can begin again; we know, we understand now, what we are, why we are here. To love each other, and be true - "

 

Greg tapped on the door quietly."The car is downstairs, boys, just waiting on you, we'll stop for tea on the way." 

"Five minutes, give us five minutes, yeah?"

"Yeah, we'll be waiting, Bluebell has already claimed her seat." They heard Greg close the door and make his way downstairs.

 

John sighed and wiped Sherlock's tears from his face. "You are remarkable, love."

Sherlock shook his head. "No, we are, without you, I - I - nothing, John, there is nothing without you."

"C'mon, let's get dressed, and get the show on the road, yeah?" John yanked Sherlock out of bed and threw one of his extra large jumpers at him. "It's cold, still, bespoke be damned. Besides, you already packed all of your clean clothes, right?" John rolled his eyes at him. Sherlock shrugged and pulled on the forest green jumper and a pair of old sweats that he always had close to hand when he needed to blend in with the darker side of London.

"Even in sweats." John grinned at him, and pushed his friend's damp curls from his eyes. "Still breathtaking."

 

He breathed in the brittle cold of the city, just briefly, before Sherlock growled as he threw open the door of one of the ugliest, blackest, most enormous SUVs he had ever seen in his life. At least there was leg room. He settled himself, then smiled as John had already taken off his boots and had placed his stocking feet in his lap and was about to begin reading Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. John had found it stuck between a biography of Pasteur and a rather innocent looking thin volume, a monograph of poisonous plants, written and published in Victoria's time. He had grabbed both Carroll's masterpiece and the small, leather bound book, thinking it might make for some entertaining reading later.

Sherlock closed his eyes and found himself mindlessly rubbing John's feet, the simple motion calmed him in a way he couldn't explain. Then he realised he didn't need an explanation. They were beyond definition, he no longer needed to analyse or deconstruct what they meant, they simply were, and he was finally okay with it, more than okay. He opened his eyes to catch John nodding off. He gently removed the book from John's hand, laid him down in the seat and covered him with the blanket that Anthea had thoughtfully provided.

He picked up the monograph and began reading; when he looked up again, they were no longer in the SUV, but back in their rooms, next to a roaring fire, and Watson looked up at him curiously. 

"The printers did an admirable job, I think it's your best work yet."


	13. The Rabbit Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Alice felt so desperate that she was ready to ask help of any one; so, when the Rabbit came near her, she began, in a low, timid voice, 'If you please, sir—' The Rabbit started violently, dropped the white kid gloves and the fan, and skurried away into the darkness as hard as he could go."_  
>  -Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Chapter 2

"I fear perhaps your judgment is ill formed, if one considers the nature of our friendship." Watson's smile was wistful, and his eyes, normally vibrant and teaming with life, with warmth, with... fondness, were dulled as if in pain.

"If I am biased, it is in no small part due to my admiration of your skill as wordsmith, and my gratitude for the great pains you have taken to present these records of our adventures." Holmes ran his fingers over the embossed name of his companion.

Watson's sharp bark of laughter pulled Holmes from his sentimental inspection of the volume's binding. It was not the genial laugh that Holmes loved so well, but a hollow sound that left an ache in his core. "Holmes! You detested the very same accounts when published as serials." Watson shook his head and turned his gaze to the fire. "Would that I had never entertained the notion of setting pen to paper."

"My dear man, surely you cannot be serious. You have amassed quite the impressive following. Because of their dedicated obsession to your tales, you could abandon these rooms, and retire quite comfortably without sparing London, or my bothersome self, another thought." Holmes laid the offending book aside, steepled his fingers together under his chin, and observed his companion.

"I could no sooner take flight from Baker Street, from you, than I could leave off breathing." Watson whispered.

"What, then, finds my Boswell in this temper most unflattering?"

"There is one account amongst the many," Watson gestured to the volume, "that every reader I encounter asks after, it is the one they prefer over all the others." Watson stood and poured himself a most precise measure of brandy. He inclined the decanter towards Holmes in a silent offer, and Holmes declined with a simple shake of his head. Watson returned to his chair and resumed his narration, not partaking of his drink but holding it for want of something to do with his hands.

"It is the account I was most reluctant to put to page. You encouraged me to do so. Vehemently, I dare say." He looked up at Holmes then, and a hint of the familiar warmth had returned to his eyes. "You make such requests so seldom, I was loathe to deny you. It was quite celebrated when published as a serial, and the printers refused the whole collection unless it was included as well." He brought the tumbler to his lips, but set it aside without a sip. "It is the account I hate most, excepting of course, the encounter at the falls."

Holmes readied his pipe, the familiar actions normally calming seemed forced, the soothing aroma from his pouch a bitter assault on his senses. "I have visited an injustice most grievous upon you then, my dear Watson. It is the affair with Mr. Culverton Smith of which you speak, is it not?" He inspected the pipe and placed it back on its stand. "Had I known that so many years gone my cruelty and insults would affect you still, I would never have requested you publish the account. The motivation at the time was the epitome of selfishness. I was moved by the record of your own sentimental concern for my well-being."

"My friend," Watson sighed, "the abuses have long been forgiven. It is rather the continued reminder of how near I came to losing you once more. Despite the knowledge that it was all a game, an elaborate trap, my own emotions were genuine. And when one considers the methods you used, applying deadly nightshade directly to your person, when you know as well as I ever could, perhaps better than, the virulent nature of the substance."

"You know my methods, Watson. You must know the careful attention given to the application of the Atropa Belladonna."

Watson blinked and a strange look came over his face as he considered his friend. "We have promised one another, to keep no secrets, to take the utmost care in self preservation. A vow I hold most sacred, Πάντα και διαρκώς." At Holmes' sharp inhalation, Watson's countenance fell and his eyes were filled with fear. "My apologies, Holmes." He stood then to retreat. "I have spoken out of turn."

"No!" Holmes leapt then to intercept Watson and held him by the arm. He slid gentle fingers around his wrist to feel the evidence of his friend's heartbeat. "You have not spoken out of turn, my dear. Rather, I believe you have spoken as a man out of his own time."

"Holmes?"

"We find ourselves here again, and yet we are not fully ourselves." Holmes slid his hand down from Watson's wrist and entwined their fingers together. 

"H-how so?"

"While not a man consumed by the desire for drink, you are a man who takes pleasure in a fine brandy. I observed the uncharacteristically conservative care you took in measuring a portion, which now remains untouched, an oversight my Watson would never allow. As for myself, my best pipe and the fine blend I prefer hold no appeal." He turned Watson's face up in order to see him more fully. 

"I fail to see..."

"You have seen more clearly than I," Holmes smiled. "You know these are not oaths sworn between us as we are, but they are promises whispered between two men, our other selves." He chuckled. "And would I not be aware if you had taken up the study of Greek?"

Watson frowned, but his eyes flashed with renewed light. "How? How is such a thing possible? Are we not real, solidly in the present? How can my mind bear the memories of another man in another time? I recall heartache that is not my own. Joy. Adoration." He stepped nearer Holmes.

"I recall as well, my Boswell. καρδιά μου."

Placing his hand over Holmes' heart, Watson whispered, "καρδιά μου. το άλλο μου μισό."

"John?" He looked into eyes that were the same, though different, somehow more familiar.

"Sherlock." Watson's breath caught as he gazed into the ethereal eyes trained intently on him. "How? Is this..." He glanced around them, at the rooms that were so foreign and yet so like their own. "This is a dream."

"It appears so." Sherlock held more tightly to John's hand, grounding him in the moment. "We've found one another again, albeit in a most improbable, ephemeral dimension."

"And you're okay?" John's audacious lopsided smile elicited a huffed laugh from Sherlock.

"I seem to have little choice in the matter. We must have found one another for a reason." They stepped apart and set about examining their surroundings, gazes landing at once on a framed lithograph print of a bundle of purple flowers. "Belladonna."

"The case, the poison." John gasped. "What could they possibly be using it for?"

"A government funded world class lab in the heart of a military base? I can think of a few applications..." Sherlock sat in the chair that must have been his.

"Someone else found out as well, and they're what? Murdering the staff involved in the project?" 

Sherlock hummed. "It would appear so."

"But the murders happened in London. It's not a quick commute."

"We may be walking into a trap."

"No one knows we've taken the case. How could they?" John scrubbed his hand down his face and frowned at the feel of the mustache. He wrinkled his nose in distaste, and Sherlock chuckled.

"It's quite distinguished, though it ages you." He laughed again at John's contempt. "The trap will not be for us, but for someone at Baskerville. The murders escalated as they progressed, the murderer may well be laying in wait. We are in need of more data." 

"You've got that look. You've got a plan." John stood in front of Sherlock. "Just, please, promise me you'll tell me."

"The case," Sherlock picked up the volume of Watson's stories, "this one. We may be able to employ Holmes' methods to trap our murderer."

"Sherlock..."

"Do you trust me, John?" Sherlock took both of John's hands in his.

John sighed. "Yeah. Of course I do. With my life."

Sherlock nodded and stood. He wrapped John in a tight embrace. "Good. Good... Though it shouldn't come to that." 

"Sherlock." There was a warning in John's tone.

The light of the room shifted, grew blinding. Sherlock blinked against it.

"Sherlock? Hey, Sherlock." John was leaning over him, gently shaking him awake. "There you are." He brushed the curls back from Sherlock's brow and their eyes met.

Inhaling sharply, Sherlock reached for John's hand. "John?" 

"Yes, καρδιά μου. I remember it too."

Sherlock blinked and nodded. John helped him sit up.

"We're near." John supplied. "But Greg's had a call from Anderson. The inhaler did contain salt water and the poison. An unknown substance." He looked Sherlock in the eyes, leaned in close, "belladonna fits." He glanced at Greg and Molly, who were only interested in each other, and whispered, "It's all a bit absurd, yeah?"

Sherlock nodded and squeezed John's hand. "Down the rabbit's hole we go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Πάντα και διαρκώς - forever and always
> 
> καρδιά μου - my heart
> 
> καρδιά μου. το άλλο μου μισό. - my heart. My other half


	14. The game is....something...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It would be so nice if something made sense for a change..."
> 
> -Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

Heard through the grapevine that there are no vacancies at the B & B, you and Dr. Watson and your colleagues are welcome to stay with me. - HK

Offer more than generous, we accept gratefully - SH

Sherlock looked at John and managed a burst of laughter. "Seems our exposing of the Hound has left some bruised feelings in the village proper."

Sherlock tapped on the glass and redirected the driver to Henry's estate, which had greatly improved since they last saw him, what was it five, no six years ago? The grounds had a sculptured, well-maintained look about them, even covered in snow, while the house itself had lost its unkempt, reclusive look and if he weren't mistaken he thought he saw a child's tricycle and play set in the yard. 

They pulled up in front of the house and the occupants yawned and stretched and slowly exited the car. The driver began pulling their cases out of the trunk as Henry flew out of the house.

"Mr. Holmes! Dr. Watson! Please, come in, and you are DI Lestrade, and you, you're new." Henry offered a bow and hand out to Molly and she smiled. "Molly Hooper."

"Please, come in; Louise! Patrick! Ellie! They're here!"

Louise Knight, formerly Mortimer, greeted them kindly and the children hid behind her legs.

Sherlock bent down and smiled at them. "Twins, yes? Four years... no...four and a..."

"Half!" Ellie shouted, then covered her mouth quickly as she saw Bluebell enter the house behind John. "Mummy! Isn't she beautiful?" She flew to Bluebell's side and threw her arms around her. Sherlock stopped and was about to apologise to Henry for his thoughtlessness, when Henry smiled at him. "No, it's fine. What's her name?"

"Bluebell." 

"You mean like Dr. Stapleton's daughter's rabbit?" Henry laughed out loud.

Sherlock grinned, and showed him the dog's tags, clearly marked 'Bluebell.'

"She was meant to find you, or you were meant to find her, then." Henry nodded at Louise and their children. "I never really got to thank you and Dr. Watson for helping me, not properly."

"Please, Henry, I'm John and he's Sherlock. We've never been the formal kind." 

Henry nodded and grinned. "Let me show you to your rooms you must be exhau-." He paused, then looked them over for a moment and shook his head. "I knew it!! No, I know you're not, but you are, if that makes sense, you two finally got squared away. Good, because I only did up two rooms, thought that would be enough." 

John and Sherlock were led to a spacious room, with an old fashioned poster bed; a roaring fire already going, two chairs, one on each side, awaited them. Bluebell wasted no time, as she found her place between their seats and was soon fast asleep. 

"Meals are informal around here, the kids have already eaten, there is a cold supper in the kitchen, if you like." Henry nodded at them, then left them to settle in.

Sherlock quickly unpacked, hanging everything neatly in the closet, and arranged his socks as best he could. John watched over him silently, knowing Sherlock was anxious about the case, but there was something else, something Sherlock was gnawing on, there was something he was working up to.

John sat down in one of the chairs and waited. Sherlock paced a bit, then changed into his t shirt, pajamas and robe and finally perched in the chair across from John. "I know this is not quite the place, possibly a bit of bad timing, but I've always had a gift for that kind of thing, I suppose."

"Sherlock?" John whispered.

"Let me finish, I want to hmmm...I need to apologise to you, for all the times, I did things on my own, ran off without you, leaving you behind, time after time. Part of it was I was used to being on my own, but even early on, the other part was always to keep you safe, to protect you. Here....Here, I put the case before you in ways that I had never done before. I, we were only friends then, but I was wrong, so wrong to put you through that, I am so sorry."

"You - you don't -"

"I'm not done, John. I want you to know, no, need you to know that, even before Greece, I knew, I felt that you were, you are, my better, wiser, braver half. I know we aren't a traditional couple by any stretch of the imagination, but...damn, why is this hard to get this out? John Hamish Watson, will you marry me?"

John blinked hard at him, and was silent for so long, that Sherlock thought he had made a mistake. John didn't want to be married, not to him, anyway; he had gone too far, asked for too -

"Yes, God. Yes, Sherlock. Αγάπη μου. Of course, of course I'll marry you."

 

Dr. Stapleton reread the email for the fifth time from Major Barrymore. Holmes and Watson were back again, this time with access to everything. Everything. All of her years of work could be compromised, lost. All because of, damn it, Abigail had believed she could find a cure for her cancer. Yes, sure, she always claimed she was doing this for other people, other cancer victims, but most of all, she wanted to save herself. Of course, she ended up dead, not because she had worked herself into the ground, but because there was someone killing everyone connected to the work her friend had started. She had begun looking for a miracle drug, but ended up engineering a more deadly form of Belladonna, it was brilliant, but even to her scientific mind, perhaps they had gone a bit too far. She wondered if she could be next, even though she never worked directly on Abigail's project, she ran the program. She was responsible for everything that went on here. She knew there was important, good work being done, but she also knew in her heart, that so much of it was, essentially, for a lack of a better term; evil.

 

I'll be late for dinner - K

Be careful, please? - Mum

Duh, you worry too much. - K

My job to worry - Mum

Love you - Mum

Yeah me too - K

 

Why did you say that, she wondered, as she threw her phone into her purse and turned off the lights. She found herself hugging her tweenish daughter more every day; then checking on her at night, while she paced the floors. She was doing this work for her, so she had a chance to be whatever she wanted. She had the brains, the curiosity, but she was stuck here, just a few more years, and she'd be at University far away from this place, and safe. Safe. She briefly wondered what that felt like. To feel safe.

 

A few miles away, John watched Sherlock's face as he stared into the fire, fingers pressed together, he had been muttering away for the last hour, trying to organise his thoughts. Meanwhile John was reading the small, elegant book of poisonous plants, focusing on the section on Belladonna. It had to be the answer, but the drug wasn't quite right, there was something just slightly off about it, enough to be unidentifiable by most people. But most people weren't Sherlock Holmes. John put the book down, and reached for Sherlock's hand.

"Bed. It will come, Αγάπη μου. You need to rest, we were so close in that dream on the way here, perhaps we will find the answers there."

Sherlock nodded and took John's hand gratefully, his long fingers were freezing, in spite of their proximity to the fire, he was frozen. John helped him get under the layers of quilts, and soon John had nestled against Sherlock's shoulder, they were both in need of a night of real sleep.

 

"John?"

"Sherlock?"

"Damn." Sherlock looked in the mirror and found his Victorian self glaring back at him. "Back here, again."

"Must mean the answer is here, somehow. It has to be here."


	15. Curiouser and Curiouser...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"'Why the fact is, you see, Miss, this here ought to have been a red rose-tree, and we put a white one in by mistake; and if the Queen was to find it out, we should all have our heads cut off, you know. So you see, Miss, we're doing our best, afore she comes..."_  
>  -Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Chapter 8

John glanced up at the steady knock on the flat door.

"Ignore it, John." Sherlock flipped through the biography of Pasteur. "Hmm. Read it."  He set it aside and flipped through a bundle of papers, clearly in Holmes' distinct scrawl. "Fascinating." He set about committing them to memory.

The knocking continued. John huffed and shifted in his seat, admirably keeping his focus on the volumes spread out before him. "Distracting," John mumbled.

"We've limited time here..." The knocking grew more insistent. Sherlock grumbled and stood. John glanced up at him. "Keep working." John nodded and returned to his research.

"Sherlock?"  A voice on the other side of the door called softly.

"Henry? What..." Sherlock sat up and blinked. He searched his surroundings. It was still early, but he was definitely in bed, next to John, at Henry Knight's home. He had been dreaming... "John," he whispered.

He turned to face the sleeping man next to him. John was curled on his side, where he had once been curled into Sherlock's shoulder, and stirring as if he were near wakefulness. His features, normally relaxed and soft when he achieved peaceful rest, were drawn in solemn concentration, as if he were focused on something urgent.

Oh. The dream.

There was another knock on the door. "Sherlock? I'm sorry to wake you, but this seems important." Henry kept his voice low. "Delivery. You have to sign for it, they won't let one of us."

Sherlock sighed and glanced back at John. They had found a rich cache of possible clues in the dream... world? Reality? It was all so logic defying that clues to this current case could be found in that other Holmes' lab notes and the other Watson's published volumes. "Give me just a moment. Please, I just need a minute."

"Sure." Sherlock heard Henry walk away.

"Καρδιά μου, είμαι εδώ." Sherlock whispered as he ran calming fingers through John's hair. "I won't be long. Stay there and search, love. You are extraordinary... Πανέξυπνε γιατρε μου." John relaxed some into Sherlock's touch and mumbled in his sleep. Huffing a laugh, Sherlock forced himself up before he could be tempted to wrap himself protectively around his other half and never get up again.

Shrugging into his robe, Sherlock ran his fingers through his mop of curls and hurried to the main entryway. He did a quick survey of his surroundings. He could hear Louise, Molly and Patrick in the kitchen. Greg, clearly only just awake  himself, had come out moments ahead of him. And Henry, with Ellie clinging to his side, was making small talk with a man in the front hall.

The stranger didn't appear to be a standard courier, he was wearing worn and faded denims and an oversized parka. The company logo was nowhere to be seen, which was definitely suspect. He had a clipboard to sign, though most delivery agencies Sherlock knew of used digital signature on a mobile device now. He could just make out what appeared to be a certified letter tucked under his arm. The man had loosened his scarf and removed his knit hat in the warmth of the house, but still wore his leather gloves. 

"Morning." Sherlock made certain he sounded chipper. "Sorry for the delay. Henry, your accommodations are to die for." He made a great show of being cheerfully interrupted from his sleep to distract from the quick search of the side table. He discreetly picked up an ink pen and approached the delivery man.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"

"In the flesh."

"I've a certified letter here for you. Sign here." He held out the clipboard and a pen. Sherlock smiled and produced his own pen, and signed his name with a flourish. Greg huffed and rolled his eyes. The delivery man held the envelope out to Sherlock.

"Just set it there on the table, please." Sherlock pointed to the side table. Greg and Henry watched with intense interest as the delivery man glared, then acquiesced with a put upon huff. "Thank you, that will be all. Good day." Sherlock ushered the man out the door, noticed the nondescript sedan, and slammed and locked the door behind him. He turned just in time to see Greg reach for the envelope. "Stop!"

Greg gasped. "Bloody he-" He clamped his mouth shut when he noticed Ellie.

"Don't touch it. I wasn't expecting a delivery." Sherlock glanced around. Henry looked grim and Greg swallowed hard. "Henry, do you have any gloves? Rubber gloves..."

"Mum just got some for the kitchen yesterday! They're purple!" Ellie cried.

"Splendid!" Sherlock smiled at the child and crouched down to her level. "Do you s'pose she'd lend them to me for a bit?" Ellie giggled and nodded. "Would you fetch them and give them to Molly to bring to me? And then I need you to do something very important for me, okay?" Ellie nodded, her eyes wide. "I need you to stay with your mum and Patrick, okay? Go on then." Ellie nodded again and trotted off to the kitchen.

"Sherlock?" Greg carded his hand through his hair. "What's..."

"Henry, do you have a... a garage or a workspace? Someplace separate from the house proper?"

"The garage. I tinker a bit. It's ventilated and I've got space heaters."

"Perfect. Ah, Molly, I will need your assistance in a moment. Greg, can I use your mobile? I... have no idea where mine is, to be honest. Haven't touched it since the airport."

Greg handed over his mobile. "I'll wake John, he ought to..."

"No! No, no... let him sleep. Just... please. I'll fill him in later." Sherlock stared at Greg until he huffed and nodded. "Thank you."

 

_Did you send a file via certified courier? SH_

_I did not. Everything you need you have access to at the base. MH_

_Has something happened? MH_

_Received a package. SH_

_Do be careful. And keep me informed. MH_

 

Sherlock handed Greg the mobile. "Mycroft didn't send it." He turned to Henry just as the doorbell rang again. They stood in silence as Henry cautiously answered it.

"Henry Knight?"

"Yes?"

"Enjoy." He smiled as he presented a bouquet.

"Wait!" Sherlock pulled on the gloves and took the flowers.

"Thanks, mate." Henry nodded and locked the door behind the delivery man.

Sherlock picked up the envelope. "Henry, the garage?" With a nod Henry led them to the garage. Sherlock glanced around and nodded. "This will do."

He laid the envelope aside and unwrapped the bouquet to reveal a dozen roses. The roses were white, but had been dyed red. Instead of a regular card a playing card, the Queen of Hearts, was tucked into the bouquet. "Master Henry Knight" was scrawled on the back. Each of the flower stems was stuck into a little canister containing discolored water.

"Damn." Sherlock whispered. He looked at Henry. "Seems we bring nothing but trouble for you, Henry. I'm sorry. I... We won't let anything happen. You and your family are our top priority."

"I want to help. Can I help?" Henry stepped nearer to Sherlock.

"For now, stay with your family. Don't leave the house, and don't let anyone in." Henry nodded. "Greg, find Mycroft's man, and do a sweep of the property."

"Right." Greg went to get dressed and find their driver.

Molly held up a pair of blue kitchen gloves. "Let's open that envelope."

Sherlock nodded. He carefully inspected the envelope front and back. There was no return address -- odd. With surgical precision, he used a blade to cut it open. Enclosed inside were three smaller envelopes and a handwritten note. Sherlock's breath caught. One was addressed to Mr. Sherlock Holmes, one to Dr. John Watson, and the third to Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade.

"Oh... shite." Molly gasped.

Sherlock carefully opened the note. Scrawled in the same handwriting from the card on the flowers was a passage from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland:

 

_'Look out now, Five! Don't go splashing paint over me like that!'_

_'I couldn't help it,' said Five, in a sulky tone; 'Seven jogged my elbow.'_

_On which Seven looked up and said, 'That's right, Five! Always lay the blame on others!'_

_'You'd better not talk!' said Five. 'I heard the Queen say only yesterday you deserved to be beheaded!'_

_'What for?' said the one who had spoken first._

_'That's none of your business, Two!' said Seven._

_'Yes, it is his business!' said Five, 'and I'll tell him—it was for bringing the cook tulip-roots instead of onions.'_

_Seven flung down his brush, and had just begun 'Well, of all the unjust things—' when his eye chanced to fall upon Alice, as she stood watching them, and he checked himself suddenly: the others looked round also, and all of them bowed low._

 

With a shuddering breath, Sherlock looked at Molly. She shrugged and nodded to the envelopes. One by one Sherlock opened them, revealing a single playing card in each. The two of hearts for John, the seven for Greg, and the five for himself.

"What does it mean?" Molly had gone pale.

"Beyond the fact that whoever sent these did not address you, which tells me they are unaware of your presence, and therefore will not recognize you -- making you an invaluable asset -- it's too soon to tell. I really need to examine these things in a proper lab."

Molly nodded. "I'll see if Louise has some containers we can borrow."

"Yes, thank you, Molly. I should... I need to check on John." Sherlock pulled the gloves off with a snap and washed his hands in the little worktop sink. Molly did the same and then took Sherlock's hand.

"You'll solve it." She smiled up at him, but her eyes revealed her true concern. Sherlock nodded and let her lead him in through the kitchen. He bumped into her when she stopped short. "Oh."

Sherlock looked up, inhaled sharply, and then glanced at Louise standing by the kitchen island.

"He got up shortly after the flowers came. He asked for a note pad and pen, and has been there since. He won't take any tea, or  breakfast... He just..." Louise motioned to John hunched over a yellow legal pad, scribbling furiously.

"I..." Sherlock looked to Molly.

"Take care of him." Molly squeezed his hand. "I'll box up the cards and flowers." Molly and Louise went off in search of some rubber tubs, and Sherlock approached John carefully.

"John... John are you okay?

With a barely perceptible nod, John pushed the stack of used up pages nearer Sherlock, but never looked up from what he was doing.

Sherlock picked up the first page. It took a moment to recall the shorthand John used when taking patient notes. He'd taught Sherlock, so they'd have a code early in their partnership. Sherlock smiled as he started reading Holmes' notes regarding an experiment with belladonna. A succinct retelling of Watson's uncanny tale of the Baskervilles. Highlights from the Pasteur studies. Notes on a journal article regarding morphine.

"John." Sherlock gasped in amazement. "Καρδιά μου. Brilliant. You are amazing."

John huffed a quiet laugh, but kept writing. "Don't wanna forget..."

Sherlock nodded, though John wouldn't see. He ran his hand over John’s shoulder and felt the tension there. "Will you have some tea? You need to eat something."

"Soon."

"All right John." Sherlock left him to his writing, occasionally picking up new pages to read, but mostly pacing protectively nearby.

"Are they always like this?" Louise whispered to Henry.

Greg shook his head. "Sherlock's usually the manic one. This is new."

"Their normal is not easily defined though. This may be them now." Molly added. "John's brilliant, always has been. It's about time others get to see it besides Sherlock."

 

* * *

 

 

Dr. Stapleton's hands shook as she pushed her office door open. She had locked it the night before. She knew she had locked it. The smell of roses permeated the air, and her heart nearly stopped when she flipped on the light.

In the middle of her desk lay a bouquet of white roses dyed red. A playing card, the Joker, with her name scrawled across is was propped in front of the flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Καρδιά μου, είμαι εδώ - My heart I am here
> 
> Πανέξυπνε γιατρε μου - Brilliant my doctor


	16. possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alice: "This is impossible."
> 
> Mad Hatter: "Only if you believe it is."  
> \- Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

"Were flowers and playing cards delivered to previous victims?" Sherlock whispered without taking his eyes from John's frantic scribbling.

"Wha?" Greg answered, watching him watching John.

"Did the first four victims receive flowers and cards, Detective Inspector?" Sherlock pulled himself up to his full height and focused his green eyes at Lestrade.

"I dunno - I'll have to dig back through the crime scene photos, and CCTV footage, could take time." He sighed and rubbed his face, knowing he would not be getting his tea anytime soon. He left the kitchen, went back to the bedroom he had shared with Molly - he blinked, wondering if the last couple of days had actually happened or - no. Focus. He sighed, knowing there was nothing else he could do, and rang Donovan. It was early yet, and she was just starting her holiday. Bugger. She was going to blame Sherlock and the shit would fly. He decided not to mention the detective's involvement quite yet.

"Sally -"

"Uh-uh, 'Greg.' No way. This is my first real holiday in three years. NO."

"It's the Alice case - got some new leads."

"Get Dimmock, Gregson, even Anderson to help you, even he can scan through hundreds of hours of footage without hurting himself...where the hell are you anyway?"

"Baskerville." He said slowly.

"Basker - wha? NO. Holmes is involved. I know it, he's dragged you into another nutter of a case."

"No, other way round," Greg sighed. "I dragged him and John away from Baker Street, the case has something to do with Baskerville. Do you remember seeing roses, or maybe rose petals at any of the crime scenes? They would be white that had been dyed red, like in the Alice story." There was silence as Donovan thought over each crime scene. The first two had been in public view, the last two in the home libraries of the victims.

"Sally - "

"Sir, please -"

"I need you, because you are the best, I just need you to think back, roses, did you see them, or smell them -"

"Sir! Yes! The last case, the scent was so strong I thought she had one of those air freshener things, it was like someone had sprayed rose scent all over the library."

"See - I knew you could...one more thing?"

"Sir?" Donovan sighed, knowing Lestrade would owe her a couple of days leave later.

"Playing cards, a little larger than normal, probably hearts, might have come through the post, or not..."

"We didn't really go through the mail of the first two victims that carefully, could be they thought it was junk mail, binned them? Yes, we did bag and tag it all...you owe me, Sir. Oh, and Sir, did uhm, Hooper find you, she was looking for you -"

"Uhm, yeah, she found me -" Lestrade couldn't keep it from his voice and he knew she knew.

"Congratulations, Sir, no really, it's about time. I won the pool, so at least that's something. I'll get on it, I'll send you an email if I find anything."

"I owe you -"

"Yes, Sir, you do. Keep me updated? And, Sir, it's really nice -"

"Yeah, Donovan, thanks."

Molly had walked in as he finished the call and he looked up to find her looking at him with worried eyes. 

"Molly?"

"I'm scared, Greg; you know I don't scare easily."

"I can have someone come and take you home."

"Don't you dare." She glared at him and kissed him fiercely. "I just think this guy is off his nut, he's bonkers, and not in a good way."

Lestrade nodded. "I'll be careful, I promise."

 

Long, trembling fingers flipped through the pages of his beloved first edition(in actuality, of course, it was the second printing, as Carroll had disliked the quality of the illustrations, he never quite explained that to people when he showed it off) of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. His mother had read it to him, explained how the book was the one treasure their family still possessed, it was in pristine condition when she had read it to him at bedtime. She didn't actually read it, she just showed him the illustrations as she told him the story. Later, he realised she had left out the darker parts, the best parts in his opinion, but it was the one thing they shared that he remembered with any fondness. She had been weak, overwhelmed by his overbearing and silently disapproving father. He had wanted his son to follow in his footsteps, but the military held no interest for him, and by the age of ten, he knew his life would revolve around Alice. His daughter loved the animated versions, the 'Disneyfied excrement' that he tolerated for her sake, but she never enjoyed the book, "Too long..." she would complain as she drifted off to sleep. She was too much like her mother, opinionated, strong-willed, modern to a fault. He leaned back in his chair and he sighed. "Not too much longer now..."

 

Major Barrymore typed in his new password, he had been ordered to change it every few weeks since that arse Holmes had invaded the sanctity of his installation. It was HIS. Not Stapleton's, and it definitely did not belong to the damn mysterious men in black who seemed to dodge his every move, they had clearance to everything. And, now, he had that blasted Holmes and the Met in his backyard...Again. That stupid woman. It was beyond his comprehension. Yes, it was sad she had cancer, he supposed, but to use HIS facility in that way, and Stapleton, even if she didn't do any of the work herself was responsible. It was her fault that bloody woman was killed. Her fault that his life was falling apart again. He had never fully recovered from the last time Sherlock Holmes infiltrated his life, and now he was back.

 

Dr. Stapleton looked across her desk at Sherlock Holmes. "I didn't know about the Alice references," she whispered. "If I had - Abigail might not have died in such a horrible way, she'd still be dead by now, she was days away, from dying at home, but it wouldn't have been so painful for her. I had gone to London to see her, in fact the day she died. She was weak, but could speak to me. She was sorry. For what I asked her. It was her fault she said. What is, I couldn't get her to make sense. The others. The others, she said."

"The others." Sherlock repeated.

She nodded. "Now, I know. If I had known earlier..."

"You don't know it's him."

"It has to be him, no one else would think like this, but he couldn't possibly have done the actual murders."

"Why not?"


	17. Motive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"'That was a narrow escape!' said Alice, a good deal frightened at the sudden change, but very glad to find herself still in existence..."_  
>  -Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Chapter 2

Pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes, John groaned, stretched, and slumped back in the horrid computer chair. "There's just too much, girl." He reached down and scratched Bluebell's ears. John wasn't sure how it had been justified having Bluebell registered as a service dog, and he'd bristled initially when Mycroft had texted him on the drive to Baskerville. At that moment though, he couldn't be arsed to be offended. "I'll have to send Mycroft a thank you," he mumbled grudgingly as Bluebell nuzzled his hand and leaned against him.

He rotated his shoulders with another groan and clicked the next file open. When Mycroft had said they'd have full access, he hadn't been joking. He'd found plenty of damning evidence against nearly everyone on staff at the base in what he personally considered crimes against humanity. He had found some interesting bits about the Major, and about Dr. Stapleton specifically. But he'd noticed an unusual phenomenon while perusing the files regarding their mystery poison.

"The hell?" John pounded his fist on the desk, causing Bluebell to inch closer to him.

"John?" Sherlock shouldered open the door to the office he'd set up in. "What's the matter? What's happened?" He placed a small paper bag and a tray with two coffees on the desk and moved to stand behind John.

"I thought Mycroft said we had unrestricted access."

"We do." Sherlock began working the tension out of John's shoulders. John leaned into the pressure.

"Damn... thank you, love." John sighed and tried to bring up the file he'd just opened. "It's gone. I was just..."

"What's gone?"

"This file about the experimental cancer drug. It was from the early stages of development. I opened the file, tried to open a document, and it denied me access. I tried all the codes Mycroft gave us, and nothing. Now the whole file is gone."

Sherlock leaned over John's shoulder to glance at his notes. "This is the fourth file you were denied access to?"

"Yes. And the first three, I was actually in the documents. The screen went black, and when it came back up, my access was denied."

"Someone is remotely monitoring what you've been doing. The codes are security clearance higher than even Barrymore. Log out now, John."

John logged out of the system entirely. "Higher than Barrymore? The military?"

"Possibly. More likely higher than that." Sherlock finished rubbing John's shoulders, and moved around to face him. He leaned against the desk and crossed his legs at the ankles.

"D'you think Mycroft knows?" Groaning John stretched and yawned. He eyed the coffee and suddenly realized he was starving. He'd skipped breakfast; he'd been too preoccupied and wound up to eat anything anyway.

"If he didn't know, he does now." Sherlock chuckled and handed John one of the coffees. John sniffed it and inspected the cup carefully. "Oh, for godsake..."

"I'm sorry... sorry.. " John chuckled. "It's just, last time you gave me coffee here..."

"I apologized for that!" With a huff, Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest.

Laughing in earnest, John nodded. "I know you did. And I trust you. Doesn't mean I trust anyone here."

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock reached behind him for the paper bag. "Obviously. I sent Marcus to town to pick these up for us."

"Marcus?" John laughed again. "Now you're not even trying. You mean Greg?"

"No, I mean Marcus." Sherlock broke a corner off a sandwich and held it to John’s lips. John sighed contentedly. "Our driver."

"What?" John nearly choked on his bite. "How did that happen? How do you know the driver's name... and I honestly just don't care at this point?" He accepted another bit of sandwich.

Sherlock chuckled. "Earlier when you were making notes, you had Greg very worried. You're acting too much like me." 

"Hazard of being inside your head, I supposed." John grinned. "Speaking of, how'd the meeting with Dr. Stapleton go?"

"Major Barrymore called her away before we were done." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Dr. Stapleton suspects her ex-husband's involvement. He's a celebrated Carroll scholar. She describes him as vindictive with a twisted sense of justice and a lot of unseemly connections. The Carroll references and disturbing nature of the murders would lend themselves to the assumption that he was involved..."

"Except he couldn't have committed the murders himself," John added. Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at him, but motioned for him to continue. "Young-onset Parkinson's disease. Diagnosed four years ago, a year after the Stapletons divorced, and a month before his fiftieth birthday." John shuffled through his notes and looked up at Sherlock. "Belladonna is used in some drugs that treat the symptoms of Parkinson's. If he was so well connected, perhaps Mr. Stapleton found out about the new drug they've been working on."

"It's possible. I would need to talk to him to be sure." Sherlock steepled his fingers under his chin and began pacing the short length of the office. "I'm not entirely convinced of his involvement." 

John nodded, "A set up then." He shuffled through more notes. "Major Barrymore is being forced into retirement." Sherlock froze and stared at him. "In his personnel file, there are several filed complaints, behavioral and ethical. And several rather scathing letters from Dr. Stapleton herself." He handed Sherlock a stack of printed pages. "Could be revenge?"

"Hmm." Sherlock nodded as he read through the pages and resumed his pacing.

"You don't think it's him either."

"Someone above Barrymore's security clearance is remotely destroying evidence. If Barrymore is involved, he's not the one giving the orders." They both froze at the sound of a commotion down the hall. "Was that..." Another shout.

"Greg. Shit."

* * *

 

"I'm gonna find the loo." Greg stood from his stool at the lab workstation and stretched. He'd logged into the MET intranet and been reviewing everything he could find about the murder victims, and the case itself. "You okay?" Molly hummed, but didn't look up from the samples of tinted water from the roses she was preparing for the mass spectrometer. "You love this, don't you? World class facility with access to the very best equipment, free reign over it all, and Sherlock Holmes himself trusting you with the details." Greg chuckled. "God, you're beautiful when you're in your element."

"Only then?" Molly flashed him a coy smile, and Greg blushed. 

"No, not only then." It was Molly's turn to blush. "I'd kiss you right now, but..." Greg nodded to the samples.

"Best to stay clear," Molly looked up at him with a grim expression, though her eyes revealed more. "Later?"

"Later." Greg grinned. "Be right back... You're sure you'll be fine?"

"Go!" Molly laughed.

Greg had only been gone a few moments when the door to the lab slid opened. "That was quick... or did you get lost?" Molly didn't look up from her samples.

"Who are you?" The threatening tone caused Molly to freeze. She'd never met Dr. Stapleton, but if this woman's I.D. badge was correct, she was about to be introduced. "Who are you? How did you get in here? This area is restricted. I don't know you..."

"I..."

"You aren't allowed in here. You have to leave now." Dr. Stapleton was growing increasingly agitated, and Molly's first thought was that she was either drunk, or under the influence...

"Dr. Stapleton, my name is Molly Hooper, I'm here with Sherlock Holmes, and have been given special access to use this lab. My visitor's pass is just there..." She pointed to the card on the counter top. "I'm a pathologist at St. Bart's, and I'm just trying to help. Are you... Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" Dr. Stapleton snapped. "But I don't believe you. I can't trust anyone around here. Did  _he_  send you? Are you going to kill me in my own lab?"

Molly held up her hands and stepped away from the workstation. "No. I promise, I'm just here to help find the murderer."

"How do I know it's not you? How do I know you're not the murderer?" Dr. Stapleton shouted. She pulled a penknife from her pocket and started to lunge after Molly. Molly stood her ground, trying to recall her self defense techniques, when Greg rushed in.

"Oi! What the bloody..." 

Startled, Dr. Stapleton turned on Greg. He managed to get the knife away from her, but not before she caught the inside of his left arm and his right hand with the small blade. Greg tossed the penknife away, and managed to get his handcuffs on the crazed woman just as Sherlock, followed closely by John, ran into the room.

"What happened?" 

"She tried to attack Molly." Greg was seething as he forced Dr. Stapleton into a chair. All three men turned to take in Molly, who had gone completely pale and was shaking. "God, Molly, are you okay?" Greg stepped right up to her. 

"Y-you're bleeding. Oh, you're bleeding." Molly took Greg's hands and turned them over so she could see the cuts. They didn't appear deep, he would probably only need a few stitches. "Idiot!" Molly hissed and glared up at him. "Don't you ever do something like that again."

"She was threatening you, and she attacked me with a knife? What was I..."

"If you ever scare me like that again, I'll kill you myself, do you hear me Greg Lestrade?" Molly went slamming through cabinets and drawers until she found a first aid kit.

"She's fine," Sherlock kept his voice low as he leaned toward John, but John was not paying attention to him. "Molly, what..."

"Sherlock? Get me the penlight from the kit." John crouched down in front of Dr. Stapleton, who's ranting had turned to incoherent mumbling. She'd slumped in her chair. Her pupils were dilated, her pulse dangerously elevated, and she felt feverish. "We need to get her down to the infirmary. Someone hit the alarm and call for help," John pointed to the panel by the door.

Sherlock crouched next to him. He practically had to shout over the alarms going off. "She's been dosed." He pointed to the clear injection site on her neck.

John nodded. "I can't tell with what yet. There are a lot of drugs that cause similar reactions at first. But if this is the belladonna, they should have physostigmine or pilocarpine in the infirmary to counteract it. We can get blood samples too..." John jumped, and they both scrambled to catch her as Dr. Stapleton lost consciousness altogether.

* * *

 

Sally tugged on her coat and gathered her bag. Greg had no idea how much he owed her. She was just stepping onto the lift when her mobile pinged a new message, and she swore under her breath.

 

_Sergeant Donovan, I am in need of your assistance. MH_

_Who is this? SD_

_Wait. MH. Is this Sherlock's creepy big brother? Piss off. Not interested. SD_

_It's a matter of national importance. MH_

_And I'm on holiday. You may dictate Sherlock's very existence, John's too. But you don't get to interfere with me. SD_

_The safety of my brother and your D.I. depend on your involvement. MH_

_Not falling for it. SD_

_This is not some sort of juvenile prank, I assure you. MH_

_Sod off. SD_

 

Sally pushed her way through the exit and out into the bracing wind. "Damn it." A black sedan was parked along the kerb, and a woman she'd only ever seen around the perimeter of crime scenes on occasion when Sherlock was around was waiting with the door open. Her phone pinged once more.

 

_Get in the car, Sergeant. MH_


	18. Enter a Wild Card

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.  
> “Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.”  
> “How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice.  
> “You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.”  
> -Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Chapter 6

Sally looked up to the sky and swore. Holmes would pay. She slid into the seat and came face to face with Mycroft Holmes.

"You've got to be kidding me. Let me out. NOW."

"Sergeant Donovan. I know you have a less than, shall we say, 'chummy relationship' with my brother. However..."

Sally rolled her eyes and laughed. "That's the understatement of the new century." Then she looked at his face, and she knew he wouldn't be here if he didn't need her help.

"Why me, of all people?"

"Because Lestrade and Sherlock to a certain extent trust you. My brother trusts very few people, yet I know he respects you as an investigator and he knows you will keep your word. Yes, even with your history."

"The DI said Baskerville is involved in the Alice cases. How?"

"The drug that was administered to the victims was created there. It was meant to be a cure for cancer, it turned out to be a highly toxic variant of Belladonna that in the wrong hands..."

Sally leaned back against the seat, closed her eyes and groaned. "Great...genius at work. So, what do you need from little ol' me?"

"Do not underestimate yourself, Sergeant. My problem, our problem, is that I have a mole. There is someone within my circle that is working to undermine and endanger this investigation; also endangering your immediate supervisor, Ms. Hooper, my brother, and his hmmm...fiance, I suppose is the closest word for it, that is comprehensible to me."

"Whaaa? Damn. I mean, I know they'd - but -"

"They seem to have an understanding, a connection. Regardless, if anything happens to Dr. Watson, my brother..."

Sally nodded. "I see. Yes. Tell me."

"We have access to all records at Baskerville, except the files that we need, the ones pertaining to the Belladonna experiments, they are disappearing literally before Dr. Watson's eyes. I need your expertise to help me find who is doing this. No one will know you are there. You will stay at the B&B. Your superior, Hooper, Sherlock and Dr. Watson are safely ensconced at the Knight residence for now. Your computer has been retrieved, and you will have any further equipment you will require. You will be given passwords and backdoor access to information no one else in this country knows about. Some of it is, I'm afraid to say, on the unsavory side. It is not your job to judge. It is your job to find the mole, protecting this investigation and those involved in it. I will not even have you sign any forms, I want no paper trail. Do you understand, Sergeant Donovan?"

Sally eyes popped but she nodded. She wasn't sure whether to be grateful to Sherlock or not, but she knew she couldn't let Lestrade, Molly, Dr. Watson or yeah, even his royal pain in the arse down. She had seen the bodies of the victims, she had talked to their families, and lied, lied to them that their loved were not in pain when they passed. She had seen their faces and knew, knew - 

"Anything I can do. Consider me at your disposal, Sir."

"Very good. I think you will find your accommodations, at the very least entertaining."

"Great."

Mycroft spent the next hour relaying the events of the last twelve hours; Donovan remained silent, but underneath, she seethed, she couldn't wait til she laid her hands on whoever was doing this. She sighed inwardly as she remembered the days when their cases were simple little murders, not these methodical lunatics, inspired by God knows what...

Finally, Mycroft stopped speaking and turned towards the window. Donovan wondered what forces created the Holmes brothers, brilliant, but essentially what she would consider damaged. But then, she smirked to herself, she wasn't what most people, herself included would consider 'normal.' She couldn't see herself in any other job, with a family, dog and the picket fence. She wasn't sure why, but she knew she wasn't quite cut out for it.

She must have fallen asleep as soon Mycroft was clearing his throat. "Sergeant Donovan? We have arrived." She looked out the window and gasped. She almost laughed, but managed to hold it in. She had thought that after the Hound fiasco, the legend would have quietly disappeared. Oh, no...quite the opposite, in fact, the couple had been able to expand the business they had added two more buildings, signs screamed 'Tours available,' 'See where it all happened..." Donovan shook her head as she realised Sherlock and Dr. Watson had given this quaint village a new lease on life, whether it wanted one or not.

 

Molly heard Greg suck in a deep breath and hold it for a moment as she finished her work, altogether it had been ten stitches, more than she had thought it would take. She had tried to be as gentle as possible, but even with the local, she knew Greg had a problem with needles and she was sure it stung.

"Uhm...thank you?" She muttered, not looking up at him. "I would've been fine."

"No, I know. I just, well, was doing my job. It just so happened that doing my job meant being between you and a knife-wielding drugged mad scientist. I know you don't need my help-"

"If anything happened to you, now, now that we have finally sorted ourselves out-and especially if you got badly hurt because of me-" Molly glared at the floor, trying not to think or feel anything too much.

"I think I need to get a coffee." He managed as she let of his hand. "Can I get you anything?"

She shook her head as he left the room.

 

Sherlock had come back to check on them and had nodded to Greg as he left.

"It's part of it, Molly. Loving someone even though you know they could be taken from you." She lifted her head and he saw the first tears he had ever seen on her face. "It reminds us, how precious they are." She nodded as she wrapped her arms around herself. Sherlock sighed, he still wasn't great at the people skills, John was far the better person for this, but he held out his arms to her and she ran into them, flinging her arms around him and sobbing against his chest, luckily, he thought, he had thrown on one of John's larger jumpers."He's fine, and John thinks Dr. Stapleton will recover, she was fortunate to be here, where they could administer the drugs. And, it means our murderer is getting desperate. It also eliminates a few of our favourite suspects, possibly, depending on how and when the drug was administered."

Molly sniffled and rubbed her eyes. "You sure do know how to comfort a girl."

Sherlock stiffened, stepped back and crossed his arms. He looked down at the floor and muttered, "I'm still not quite adept at this 'friendship' thing, I'm, uhm - learning as I go."

"No. Oh, Sherlock, I didn't mean...damnit. You are right, we need to focus, see if we can figure out how she was drugged here, and why. Thank you."

"What for?" He still hadn't looked up, and he was trying to replay alternative scenarios for future interactions in his head.

"Look at me." Molly touched his face gently. He managed to look her in the eyes with a bit of difficulty. "He is very important to me, I just don't want him thinking I'm going to be his 'damsel in distress,' I want him to see me as a whole person."

"I know." He nodded and sighed. "John has a tendency to see me that way. I think he's learning to let go a bit."

Molly managed to laugh. "I must look a mess- I just need to freshen up. I'll be right back."

"Wait, Molly, we don't know how she got exposed to it, uhm, there's a mirror in here, I don't want -"

"No, it's okay, I understand. Let's consider how it got into her system, we're still working out how long it takes for symptoms to appear, I suppose we have to interview Major Barrymore to see how she was behaving when he spoke to her?"

 

Greg found John finally drinking a badly needed coffee at the nicely turned out on base coffee shop. Everyone who was stationed at Baskerville lived in barracks, year round, so Barrymore made sure they had the best of everything, especially coffee.

He sat down with a sigh. "How -"

John laughed. "We've been together off and on since we were kids, and we are still figuring it out. I still want to protect him, I know, it's odd, but especially since the time when he was gone...I have to hold back, he's a grown man, but there will never be a time when I won't try to -"

"Save him? It was gut instinct, all I saw was this crazy chick with a knife looking like she was going to hurt Molly - and now she's mad at me..." Greg shook his head.

"No, she's scared, because she realised how much she truly cares about you. You remember that case, I'd been living with him for about six months, and a two-bit thug managed to take me down? I hadn't slept in three days, between shifts and him pacing the floor working the case, he had me dead to rights, and just at that moment Sherlock got in the way, I think if I hadn't moved he would have been fine, but I moved in front of him, and the guy knocked me out with his gun because he had run out of ammo. After he got me home, he didn't speak to me for a week. He would nudge me awake every two hours and give me painkillers for my shoulder which had been dislocated, make sure I was comfortable, but wouldn't speak to me. Eventually, I healed, there were other cases, and he started talking to me again, but we never discussed it. And we had only lived together for half a year, we were just friends then. He was scared and angry at me for thinking he was more important than I am myself. He never told me that, but I thought about it a lot afterwards, and it rings true." He took another sip of coffee and sighed. "It's all good, you just have to let her save you, once in a while."

"There's no way -" Greg started then grinned in understanding.

"Yeah. But not too often, they might start to catch on."

"So - Stapleton?"

"She's recovering, we have one of Mycroft's men guarding her, but I'm headed back up, not sure how safe that is."

"Because of the disappearing files?"

"Yeah, it's as if someone is standing behind my shoulder...wait a minute, we should check to see what cameras are around where I'm working, make sure they are all legit."

"Got it, man, I miss Donovan. I never realised how much I depend on her."

 

"I'm here, Sir. Watching your back." Donovan muttered, again impressed by the set up Mycroft had managed to rig up in one of the newer suites of the "Hound Lodge." She had rolled her eyes, but whistled when she saw the sweet computers he had managed to have built in, it definitely cost a pretty penny.

He almost smiled in response, it was at least half a smirk. "As part of an arrangement where the owners of the B & B didn't get into trouble regarding their dog's role in the Hound case, we took over this suite to keep an eye on Baskerville."

"Yet it wasn't enough to stop this, was it? Sir."

"No, this has only been fully operational for two years, unfortunately. Building takes time and money, Sergeant. Even I, cannot always get the budget to go my way. Politics....and from the files that we need you to locate, as I believe they are simply hidden, not completely erased, from information gathered independently, we think this work started right after the Hound episode."

"So, it took them this long to start killing people." Donovan murmured.

"Unfortunately, we don't know that to be the case. Perhaps there were test subjects we don't know about, that's why it's of the utmost importance..."

"Right, understood. So, I can see and hear everyone, but they don't know I'm there."

"Correct." Mycroft nodded his approval.

"Okay, then, off you go, unless you want to watch mindless computer hacking, and I suppose the less you know the better, eh?"

"Quite." Mycroft was taken aback a bit, but then remembered Anthea's report on Donovan. "Good copper, bit of a smart-arse, but heart is in the right place, buried under the gigantic chip on both shoulders." He found the assessment correct as per Anthea's usual thoroughness, she had an awareness of people, that he could only marvel at. "Carry on."


	19. Technology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"'What a curious plan!' exclaimed Alice."_ -Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, chapter 9

_Please tell me you've found something. GL_

 

Completely surrounded by technology, and immersed in live images and constant audio feed, the ping of the text alert startled Sally from her focus. "Damn." She'd intended to text Greg hours ago. She scrambled to think up an excuse, but decided on the truth instead.

 

_Got pulled into a meeting. I blame you. SD_

 

She really was forced into a meeting against her will, and she truly did blame Greg for the Holmes brothers being anywhere near her life.

 

_Sorry. I owe you big. GL_

_You have no idea. SD_

 

It was truly bizarre texting her boss when she could see and hear him from the computer to her left. The bandages on his hand and arm did not go unnoticed. She snickered when she realized for the first time that Greg mumbled what he was texting as he typed.

 

_Were there playing cards at the scenes? GL_

_Yes. You owe me for that too. Had to dig through three bin bags, but we found them. SD_

_Victim one: poisoning, seven of spades. V2: dry drowning, five of spades. V3: blunt force trauma, ten of spades. SD_

_That's only three. GL_

_V4: the attempted decapitation, received a dozen white roses dyed red and the nine of spades was tucked in the bouquet. SD_

 

Sally groaned as she watched, and listened to, Greg explain to John what she'd just texted him. Oi. So much repetition. No wonder Holmes complained. She sighed and focused on Greg. He was sat at a desk in a cozy looking office, with his feet propped on the desk petting a dog. When did they get a dog? And John was...

"Bloody hell," Sally murmured as the bookshelf John climbed up on swayed dangerously. It was all she could do to not text Greg and warn them the damn thing wasn't bolted to the wall. She shook her head. John would just have to learn the hard way. She winced in anticipation, but just before the whole thing gave out, John hopped down with a victorious shout and held out a small camera.

Sally checked her feeds -- it was the camera that pointed directly at John’s computer screen. Probably best that he found that one. The two before it not so much.

 

_Your brother's boyfriend is making my job incredibly difficult. SD_

_I doubt either of them would appreciate that designation. MH_

_Well, whatever he is, he's unplugging all the cameras in the office he's been using. He did find the one the hacker was probably using, but I need the others to keep an eye on him. SD_

_God knows he needs it. They all need parental supervision. SD_

_Humorous. I will have the cameras replaced tonight. MH_

 

Sally shook her head and laughed. The "end transmission" was clearly implied at the end of that exchange.

 

_Can you tell me anything else? GL_

_V1: 47 year old male, lab tech, smoker, divorced, no children, recently accepted a position at Imperial College London, relocated to London two months ago, previously employed at Baskerville. SD_

_V2: 63 year old male, physician, asthmatic, widower, two adult daughters, doing locum work at a clinic near his home, former military, the NHS registry lists his previous practice as a military installment at Baskerville. SD_

_Noticing a theme? SD_

_Shit. GL_

_It's worse. V3: 86 year old female, retired school teacher, divorced twice then widowed, two sons, one daughter, more money than god, philanthropist and supporter of the arts and sciences, funded a research grant for a cancer study conducted at Baskerville. SD_

_V4: 52 year old female, cancer patient, biochemist, married, two adopted children, renowned researcher at, you guessed it, Baskerville. SD_

_Dr. Stapleton, our contact here, mentioned V4 to Sherlock. She was leading a team doing research into a cure for cancer using belladonna. GL_

 

Sally dumped her bag onto the floor and pulled out her notebook.

 

_Phil tested the inhaler again. The poison present was unidentified, but there were traits similar to belladonna. The water in the bouquet was the same ratio of poison, but added to fresh water and red dye instead. SD_

 

Sally watched as Greg jumped up from his seat and read the text off to John. Both men, dog close behind, dashed down the hall and to the lab where Sherlock and... uhm, Hooper... Molly, yes, Molly... seemed to be dissecting something. A rose. Sally wished she had John's penchant for swearing at the sight.

She heard Greg explain the findings, and laughed when Sherlock cursed Anderson. He seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, and then he ran from the lab leaving the others baffled. He returned a moment later with another bouquet and rattled off something too low and fast for Sally to actually hear. She'd have to contact Big Brother again.

 

_Dr. Stapleton was poisoned earlier. John doesn't think it was the new poison, but just straight belladonna. But she received roses too. GL_

_Did she survive? SD_

 

It must have happened before she arrived, Sally reasoned. Otherwise Mycroft certainly would have mentioned it. She'd definitely need to contact him.

 

_They gave her an antidote. It's touch and go. GL_

_She went a bit mad. Tried to attack Molly with a penknife. Managed to stop her... with my hand and arm. Stitches. GL_

_She stabbed you?!? SD_

_It's not too bad. Molly fixed me up. GL_

_Still hate needles. GL_

_Dammit. I told you to be careful. If you end up dead, I'll come there and kill you again. SD_

_Noted. GL_

_Anything else? GL_

_No. Just, be careful. I'm serious, boss. SD_

_Anything else for me? SD_

_Just so you're aware, John, Sherlock and I all received playing cards, and Henry Knight received roses. GL_

_SHIT. You need to get away from there. All of you, even Holmes. SD_

_We're on high alert. We're sticking together. We'll be fine. GL_

_I don't like it. SD_

_It'll be fine. Except it feels like we're being watched. It's weird. GL_

 

"You have no idea." Sally shook her head.

 

_Are you aware Dr. Stapleton was poisoned? She'll survive. SD_

_She attacked Molly and stabbed Greg? Superficial, but still. SD_

_I only found out after I left you there. This is why your presence is vital. MH_

_Yeah, well, I need better microphones in the lab. Your damn brother talks too fast. SD_

_It will be taken care of. MH_

 

Sally pressed her fingers to her temples. "Not enough paracetamol in the world."

 

* * *

 

_I thought I told you to be discreet. Stapleton could have killed someone. L_

_Holmes and his little tag along are the last ones we need ending up dead. Big brother's already breathing fire. L_

_If you'd have done what I'd asked you to, they wouldn't even be here. B_

_Instead you wait until they're actually accessing the files. How incompetent can you be? B_

_This is not my problem. This is your crusade. L_

_It became your problem when you went snooping where you shouldn't have. B_

_That's my job, what was I suppose to do? L_

_Lie. Screw it up like you do everything else. B_

_Do you really think you're making him proud? L_

_Shut the hell up. Just shut up. B_

_Mature. L_

_Go to hell. B_


	20. Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can't explain MYSELF, I'm afraid, sir," said Alice, "because I'm not myself, you see."
> 
> -Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Chapter 5

Donovan yawned as she watched them begin to pack up for the night. John,(when did she start thinking of him as John? Ah well) was exhausted, he closed his eyes as Sherlock was rubbing his shoulder, and whispering something to him. They weren't lovers, she mused, but they seemed to be something...more, there was definitely something more symbiotic about them since they came back. It no longer seemed to her that Holm- Sherlock(damn, yeah, okay, okay, he's not so bad) disrespected the doctor, in fact, John had shown flashes of brilliance in the time she had been watching, okay, spying on, no...protecting? them and Sherlock had listened and nodded, then smiled in agreement? Now she knew she needed a break when she started analysing their relationship.

She jumped up as there was a knock at the door. She put her hand on her piece by instinct, as a voice called out, "Room Service!"

"I didn't order any -" she began. Then stopped, she looked at her watch, it was after eleven, she couldn't remember when she had last eaten. She opened the door cautiously and almost let out a snort. He was in his twenties, tall, blue eyes, nice smile - wearing a hound t shirt and a hat, of course the hound pictured looked nothing like the dog that Lestrade had described to her when he returned to work after a few days off. She had never seen him that shaken up over anything, the hound thing had actually terrified him, and yet, here they all were.

She looked at the cart carefully as he rolled it in, she could smell her favourite curry, and there were a couple of bottles of her lager, a hard to find 'craft' beer from the States that she got teased for on pub nights, she actually ordered it by the case so they had it on hand for her. She shook her head in wonder, tried to give the lovely waiter a tip, but he wouldn't take it, he simply bowed and began to leave the room.

"Uhm, coffee and a bacon roll, tomorrow, around 5 -"

":30? Lots of cream and 'enough sugar so the spoon stands up' were my instructions?"

"So, you are stuck waiting on me, hmm?" She looked him over and sighed."You don't normally work here, you're one of Myc's men, yeah?"

"What gave me away, Sergeant?" 

"Everything's too new, you're too, 'tidy', is the word. Can you tell me your name? At least make one up, if you can't tell me your real one?"

"You can call me Alastair."

"Good enough, Al, make sure you get some dinner, too, yeah?"

He smiled at her and nodded. "You are different than what I thought you'd be - shit. I really need to learn to shut up."

Sally smirked at him. "This is punishment, yeah? On protection detail, because you couldn't keep your trap shut?" She offered him her hand. "I think we will get along just fine. You're down the hall?"

"Next door. Dessert will be up in a bit - "

"Something ridiculously chocolate, I'm assuming?"

"You got it - enjoy your curry before it gets cold." He bowed again and left, closing the door behind him.

 

Dinner was perfect, and dessert was insane, no more of that unless you want me to gain half a stone while I'm here. Don't want to know how you know so much about me - SD

You're welcome, Alastair is acceptable? - MH

Poor guy, what did he do insult the Queen to land here with me? - SD

Yes. - MH

Bloody hell, now I know I like him. - SD

Sergeant - MH

How bout you call me Donovan and I call you Myc, cut the formality crap, yeah? - SD

Very well, Donovan - MH

Lestrade has all the background info on the victims, he knows there's definitely a link to Baskerville, did your people get the cameras replaced? I think I should keep an eye on things tonight. - SD

No. Alastair will take over, he has the same set up in his suite, another pair of eyes is useful at times. He was anxious to be of use when he returned from his 'holiday.' You need to get some rest so you can be focused tomorrow. My brother and Dr. Watson are unlikely to sleep, so I need you to be at your best tomorrow. - MH

Will do. You do care, don't you? - SD

Don't you? A bit? - MH

Yeah, have to admit the arse is starting to grow on me. A bit. - SD

 

Sherlock helped John into bed, he was beyond exhausted as they hadn't stopped since, Sherlock couldn't even remember what time they had been awakened that morning. But John was still thinking about everything, trying to make connections, babbling away. Sherlock knew part of it was wanting to stop anyone else from being killed, but mostly John didn't want to think about the last time they had been here. He understood. He knew better than to apologise to John, as that would just start the old argument again, better to focus on the future.

"Do you want to get married in the village?"

"...there has to be some way to connect - huh?" John sat up and blinked at him.

"We could do a civil ceremony in London, then do a somewhat traditional wedding in the village when we go back in the spring?"

"You want to do it that soon?" John whispered.

"Don't you?" Sherlock smiled at him in the dark, the only light coming from the embers in the fireplace.

"Yeah, yeah, I do. I just wish I could turn this off, now I understand a bit about why you never slept, I have all this information flying around in my head, it won't stop, can you make it stop, Αγάπη μου? Please?"

"Close your eyes, καρδιά μου, can you remember the day you taught me how to make flower crowns? How blue the sky was, the colours of the flowers, Kya sitting on your lap..."

 

Watson stared into the fire. Then he turned to Holmes as he slept peacefully on the couch, the light dancing along his hard angles. How he longed to touch those cheekbones, rest next to him. He shook his head and once again looked down at the book opened on his lap. Why was he rereading his retelling of the Baskerville story, it was important somehow to his other - to him? To the other time. The villain of their own time had acted from greed, to claim what he believed to be his, what was the motive of the killer or killers in the future, in his other life? What motivates people? Money? No...no way to profit monetarily that he could see. Love? Possibly. Revenge. Revenge for what? Someone they weren't seeing. There was someone else they didn't know about yet.

Holmes stretched and opened his eyes to see Watson pacing in front of the fire. 

"καρδιά μου?"

"Hmm?"

"John? Why aren't you sleeping?"

Watson turned and stared at Holmes who had sat up on the couch, which was beginning to resemble their ratty old thing at home. He blinked and rubbed his eyes.

"Motive, Sherlock. Motive. I think this is revenge for something, but it's not anyone we know about, there's someone we don't know about, but it's someone we've seen at Baskerville, we saw him or her today."

"Yes. Yes, I believe you are correct. Now, will you come to bed, please?"

"But, we've never shared a bed here before."

"Don't you think it's time?"

Watson nodded his head, Holmes stood and offered his hand.

 

Sherlock felt John sleep against him, restless, in a dream, then suddenly relax, and finally snore contentedly. He managed to stifle a laugh as he realised their other selves had taken themselves off to bed and were fast asleep.


	21. Wake-up Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her."_ -Lewis Carrol, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, chapter 1

At 5:29 AM, on the dot, Sally flung the door to her room open. "Mornin' Al! You need to get in here right now."

"God... damn... don't..." Alastair stumbled back with a stunned gasp. He somehow managed to balance the tray he was carrying with one hand as he caught himself against the wall with the other.

"You'll never get reinstated if a little thing like a door opening scares you." Sally took the tray, holding the breakfast that had been ordered for her, and what she could only assume was Alastair's breakfast as well, before he could drop it. "I need you to see something." She motioned for him to follow her into the room, and after a shaky breath and a cautious glance up and down the hall, he followed her in.

"Is he one of yours?" Sally pointed at the monitor. They were looking at the office John had been using the day before. The lights were off, but someone was moving around in the dark with a torch, and appeared to be checking the cameras. Whoever it was cursed softly when he -- definitely a he -- realized the one from the bookshelf had not been replaced. He made his way to the desk and sat down at the computer.

Alastair stepped past Sally, and switched the feed to the web cam. The other man never actually turned on the monitor, so they only got a very shadowy distorted look at his face. "Ah, no. I don't... He's not with us. Looks bloody familiar though... Like I've seen him before." He captured a few screen shots and sent a quick message.

"So he's not installing those cameras?"

"That was done hours ago." Alastair didn't look back at her as he brought up the facial recognition software. It was a long shot with the poor lighting, but he had to try.

"That office wasn't his first stop. I think he's what woke me." Sally tapped the monitor screen with the live feed to the lab. "I left the mic volume up in the lab, and the sound of something shattering startled me awake. Shadow man made a break for it, and headed straight to that office. Whatever he dropped, it's on the floor there..." She tapped the screen again.

Moving to the second computer, Alastair typed in a few quick commands and a bank of lights came on in the lab. He zoomed in on the object, a vial, clearly marked hazardous, was leaking on the floor. Another series of screenshots and a message was sent. Alastair pulled his mobile from his pocket and dialed a number.

"Sorry to bother you, sir. We've got something. I just sent the images. Unidentified male appears to be tampering with the new cameras. It's possible he's tampered with the computer as well. And there's a spill of a hazardous substance in the lab... Yes... Yes, sir... No. Shit- sorry, sir. He's leaving the office now. Just turned right out of the office, headed for the stairwell."

Sally started pulling up camera feeds in an effort to find the mysterious man. They watched him enter the stairwell, but there was a blind spot at a turn in the stairs, and they lost sight of him. "Dammit." She slammed her hand on the desk.

"We'll keep looking sir." Alastair disconnected the call with a sigh. He slumped back in the chair. "God, I hate this. I should be there!" He motioned to the screen.

"Well, you're stuck here with me, so let's make the best of it, yeah? Budge over." Sally pulled another chair up to the work consul and then shoved her overly sweet, extra strong coffee at Alastair, opting to take his orange juice instead. "You were up all night. You're going to need this more than I will."

 

* * *

 

_Did you get the sample? L_

_Who do you think I am? B_

_And the camera? L_

_It's gone. But the software will install the first time someone logs in. B_

_Did anyone see you? L_

_I ask because an alert just crossed my desk about a break in at the lab. Seems there was a chemical spill. L_

_No one saw me. B_

_Dammit. Make it go away. B_

_Containment crews are already there. You think I can just make that go away, genius? L_

_If you're going to get sloppy, I'm out. I didn't want in to begin with. L_

_Oh no. If I hang for this, so will you. B_

 

* * *

 

Molly eased awake with a stretch and a sigh. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and blinked a few times to adjust to the dim morning light. It was early still, she didn't hear anyone else moving about. Just as well. She pulled the duvet up to her chin and rolled toward the solid warmth of Greg at her side. It was only then she discovered she was being watched.

"Morning, love," she barely managed as whisper as she was overcome by the warmth, and yes, love, she saw in the deep brown eyes gazing at her.

Greg brushed the hair back from her face with the most gentle touch, and brushed a light kiss on her forehead. "So beautiful," he murmured.

She giggled. "I must look a sight. I didn't even wash my face before..."

"Beautiful," Greg repeated softly and then kissed the tumble of words from her lips.

"Is that the only thing you can say?" Molly found herself a bit breathless.

"She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd. She is a woman, therefore to be won.*" Greg grinned and kissed her again.

Molly rolled her eyes and giggled again. "It is too early for Shakespeare, love. Especially the histories."

Greg's grin went mischievous then. "But, soft! What light through...**" Molly laughed outright and pulled him down into a deep kiss. "Not fair!" Greg panted.

"Had to shut you up somehow, love." Molly patted his cheek.

"Oi! And all I did was compliment you. Didn't even mention the raccoon circles from your mascara..."

Eyes wide, Molly tried to escape under the covers with a mortified groan.

"Come back... Please, come back, love. It's not so bad." Greg chuckled and pulled her into an embrace. "I think it's endearing, and I'm honored to be the one who is allowed to see you when you're vulnerable."

"Idiot." Molly mumbled into his chest. They lay there, just enjoying the nearness, when they heard someone shuffling down the hall. "S'pose we should get up. Sherlock will want to get an early start I'm sure. This case has got him all out of sorts... And John is just..."

Greg held her a little tighter and huffed a laugh. "How about we don't talk about Sherlock and John while we're in bed?" Molly giggled and nodded against his shoulder. "We'll just have a bit of a lie in. For just a little while longer? I'm sure we'll know when it's time to go."

 

* * *

 

Sherlock sat straight up from his sleep, gasping for air against the panic in his chest. A dream. Just a dream. He blinked rapidly, trying to erase the images from his memory.

_He was running harder than he'd ever run. At first he'd thought he was running from something... someone... But that wasn't right. He was searching, seeking, calling out. Something was missing, wrong. When he'd started he was running blindly in darkness, but soon he realized he was tearing through the halls of a great manor, a Gothic monstrosity, all shadows and flickering candlelight, tapestries and enormous painted portraits. And there were footfalls just behind him. He felt a moment's relief until he looked back and saw Henry running with him. It was Henry, definitely, but not as he had ever known him, different, yet familiar. They ran on, and Sherlock knew this was Baskerville Hall, he knew the other him, Holmes, must recognize this place, because he made his way without hesitation. Searching. Always searching, and terrified. There was a beast, not a hound... a man. But a true monster. "John!" He'd cried out, because he knew. Oh, he knew. His heart, his other half... "John!" He was screaming. And Lestrade was there, holding him back, restraining him, keeping him from the monstrous roar and muffled cries in the shadows just ahead..._

Sherlock reached out his trembling hand, just to reassure himself of John's solid presence, but the bed next to him was empty. He cursed softly, and swiped at the errant tear that escaped. He'd not panic, not here. He'd not allow himself to make a scene at Henry's house. John hadn't gone anywhere. Where could he go without someone knowing? He tried to calm his breathing. And damn it... the tears would not stop. Just stop. Just...

"Sherlock? καρδιά μου?" John's voice was soft, but Sherlock could hear the concern. He kicked the twisted quilts from around his legs, nearly tumbled from the bed, took the tray of tea and toast from John and set it aside, then wrapped himself around him protectively. A bit possessively, if he were to be honest. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock and held him. "Nightmare?"

With a groan, Sherlock nodded. "You have to stay here today. I don't want... You can't go anywhere near that place."

"What? What are you... You know I can't do that. I won't."

"John please. It's too dangerous." He was near begging.

"Sherlock, it was just a dream..."

"Except our dreams haven't been just dreams. And it defies logic. I can't... I don't understand it... We're together in these places, and they're real, and I can't explain it. And this one... It's too terrible. I won't allow you to..."

"You won't allow me?" John clamped his mouth shut, but he pulled out of the embrace. Sherlock whimpered... god, he whimpered... and John really looked at him. He was terrified, completely wrecked. "Sherlock, love," John whispered. He took Sherlock's hands and led him to sit on the edge of the bed as John stood in front of him. "If it's that dangerous, do you think for a moment that I would let you go alone?"

"I won't be alone." Sherlock sniffed. "Greg, and Molly... and My-mycroft's men..."

"I don't trust a single one of them to take care of you as well as I know I could." John wiped Sherlock's tears away with his thumbs.

"But I don't know if I can trust myself to take care of you... The dream. It was so real... And you... I couldn't see you, but..."

"Shhh... καρδιά μου. Everything together, remember? We're here. We do this together, or not at all. We made a promise."

Sherlock pulled John toward him, wrapped his arms around his middle, and rested his forehead on John's chest. "I'm sorry... This is all so disorienting. The case..."

"And us?" John ran his fingers gently through Sherlock's hair. Sherlock nodded against him. "Just breathe, yeah? There is so much, I know. It's all a bit overwhelming. But I believe in you. In us."

"John..." A barely audible whisper.

"Both of us together."

"Together." Sherlock held on to John a little tighter, as John traced soothing patterns against his scalp.

"We've got some time yet. Mycroft texted, there was some sort of incident at the lab, he said we'd get a full report when we got there, but they have to do some decontamination before we can go in..."

"We should have already been there!" Sherlock tried to jump up, but John pushed him back down.

"They won't let us in right now. He'll notify us with the all-clear. Have some breakfast with me? And we can just rest a while longer. God knows I could use it."

"Λυπάμαι," Sherlock whispered. "γιατρός μου. καρδιά μου. άλλο μου μισό."

"Πάντα και διαρκώς."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *William Shakespeare; Henry VI, Part I; Act V, Scene iii
> 
> **William Shakespeare; Romeo and Juliet; Act II, Scene ii
> 
> _______________________________________
> 
> λυπάμαι - I am sorry
> 
> γιατρός μου. καρδιά μου. άλλο μου μισό. - My doctor. My heart. My other half.
> 
> Πάντα και διαρκώς - forever and always


	22. Wasting Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alice sighed wearily. "I think you might do something better with the time," she said, "than waste it in asking riddles that have no answers."
> 
> -Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland, Chapter 7

Alastair stared at the blurry, shadowed images, replaying them over and over again, using different editing programs, hoping he was wrong, but knowing in his heart that he wasn't. He took another sip of Donovan's coffee and wished he hadn't.

"How the hell do you drink this stuff?"

"Can't stand the taste of coffee, I usually get mochas with extra choc and whipped cream. But at work, that might seem a bit..."

"Frou-frou?"

"Yeah, I have one of those refillable mugs, no one but my barista and Mycroft Holmes knows what's in it."

Alastair grinned then looked back at the image again, and sighed.

"You think you know who that is."

He nodded. "And if it is who I think it is, I know there is someone else involved, someone helping him. I know who our mole is."

 

Heard about Golden Boy's trouble - B

Shut up. He's worth three of you - L

Yeah, you always wished he was your son, someone to follow in your footsteps. - B

You had your chances. You had everything, we gave you everything. - L

All I wanted was a family, I had one for a while til they killed him. They took my family. You were never there. Too busy for us. - B

I need to know. Are there others? - L

Others? Oh, you mean 'victims.' No. Not by my hand, Mum. - B

 

Sherlock took the last bite of toast from John's fingers and sighed.

 

Still at least two more hours until you may return to the facility. - MH

Damn it, can't you hurry it along? We are getting close - SH

No matter what you think, I am not a miracle worker - MH

Call for us when we can go back to work.- SH

 

"At least two more hours," grumbled Sherlock, as he laid back against the pillows. 

"Long enough for a nap, come here, καρδιά μου."

"I don't want to, I don't want to go back there. I can't -"

"Shhhhh." John pulled Sherlock into his arms, waited til he felt him relax against his chest then threaded his fingers through his sweat dampened curls. "I'm here, love, I'm right here."

 

"Holmes?" Watson blinked against the darkness. He finally made out the outline of his friend and whatever they were becoming standing at the window. "Come back to bed? It's cold out there."

Holmes nodded and removed his robe, then slid back into bed. Watson wrapped his arms around him. "You're shivering - nightmare?"

"The Hound case. He, I, we, dreamed I couldn't get to you in time, I was too late to save you, of course you were never in any danger in the real case. He's worried he won't solve it in time, before someone else dies. I'm afraid, John. It's different than last time, I know it's a man, I just can't see him yet. I don't know if I'll be able to stop him -"

Watson stopped the babble of words with a kiss.

"John?"

"καρδιά μου?"

"How long, how long have you wanted to do that?" Sherlock sighed against John's lips.

"Hmmmm? Wha -" John blinked awake.

"You, uhm, Watson, kissed me. How long have you wanted to do that?"

 

Donovan shook her head. "We need to tell Myc. At least, have her phone records pulled up, maybe look at her email?"

"She's the reason I wanted to do this work. I grew up next door, my parents weren't uhm -" Alastair studied the bottom of the coffee cup, somewhat surprised to find it empty. Donovan studied the images Alastair had up on the screens, knowing he needed space to talk it out. "She took me under her wing, telling me these wonderful stories. They turned out to be mostly just that, she cribbed straight from the Fleming novels, even once I knew I didn't care. She listened to me, gave me a reason to work hard in school...her own son couldn't care less, I'm sure he resented all the time...he wasn't a bad sort until his step-father died..."

"Call Myc, Al, you need to -"

"I know." Alastair picked up his phone and got through to Anthea. "Tell Mr. Holmes I know who our mole is. Make sure he's on a secure line, he's not going to like it."

 

Henry banged on their door. "Sherlock! John! Car is here -"

John groaned. "Guess we'll have to finish this discussion later, we have to get dressed."

"Is there anything to discuss, καρδιά μου?"

John touched Sherlock's face gently, "I've always thought you, I - you know I love you, and I know you love me, I have never needed more than what we have. Right now, I need us to focus on closing this case, so we can focus on us again, yeah?"

Sherlock nodded and kissed John's forehead. "Back to work."

 

Mycroft ended the call and looked up to make sure his door was closed. He banged his fist on his desk and texted Anthea to come to his office.

"I need to see all of her incoming calls, outgoing calls, emails, texts, written correspondence for the last five years. If she sent a fucking smoke signal, I want to know who she sent it to."

"Pigeons, too, sir?"

Mycroft looked at her for a moment as if she had lost her mind, then laughed. "Thank you, Anthea. Sometimes I forget."

"Forget what, Sir?"

"To breathe."


	23. In Limbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Alice thought she might as well wait, as she had nothing else to do, and perhaps after all it might tell her something worth hearing."_ -Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Chapter 5

John had his hand raised ready to knock on the study door, he was going to tell Henry they were off, when he heard the hushed voices grow a bit louder.

"I don't like it, Henry. These are your friends." Louise sounded agitated.

"What would you have me do, love? Tell the great Sherlock Holmes that my wife had a nightmare? Everything he does is founded in logic, and this... a bad dream... is not logic." John couldn't help but smile at Henry's calm tone. He remembered a time...

"You know it's more. You know..." Louise sighed, and came near the door, then turned away. John recognized a strop when he heard one. He almost knocked then, but Louise spoke up. "I have dreams... I dreamed of you. And the twins. I dreamed that Sherlock and the others would come here. You know I did. I'm the one who told you we only needed two rooms."

John took a step back from the door. He was eavesdropping, and he shouldn't. At least that's what he tried to tell himself. In reality, he wanted to rush into the study and demand Louise tell him all.

"They're in danger, Henry. They know it, I saw it in the way Sherlock watched John walk the dog earlier. It's in the way Greg and Molly are inseparable. And John’s eyes..." Louise paused, and when she started again, her words were muffled as if she were speaking against something, or someone. "They know there's danger, but they don't know the depth of it. Please, Henry..."

"They were on their way out the door. We'll tell them later, okay? I promise." John had to strain to hear Henry's soft words.

John turned from the study, and pulled out his mobile.

 

_With the mess at the base, I won't be given a hassle for having my gun will I? JW_

_You will be met with no resistance. MH_

_Remind D.I. Lestrade to carry his as well. MH_

_Rough morning? JW_

_We've identified the mole. Does not bode well for your end. MH_

_Damn. JW_

_You'll have a full report soon. MH_

_Thank you, Mycroft. JW_

_Dr. Watson, please, look after him. MH_

_You have my word. JW_

_And John, do take care of yourself as well. MH_

 

John shook his head and rolled his eyes. Sentiment. It was apparently all or nothing with these Holmes boys. He squared his shoulders, motioned to Bluebell to follow him, and march out to the waiting car.

 

* * *

 

"You are lying to me!" Sally laughed. Her attempt to distract Alastair while they waited to hear back about the search into the mole's communication records seemed to be working.

"I swear on this big ugly dead dog's grave." He laughed.

"But I never heard about any bomb threat!"

Alastair assumed a pompous air. "We in the Anti-Terrorism Division make it our goal to keep threats to the crown out of the public eye. We strive to maintain the nation's confidence in the security of the..." He snorted and devolved into laughter. "I can't."

"Oh god." Sally wiped the laughter tears from her eyes. "But seriously, I had no idea there was a bomb threat that day."

"It wasn't exactly on the news."

"But I was there!" Sally laughed again. "Everyone was called in that day. The Queen goes out in public, you better believe we were all over the place. And I swear to you, I never knew."

"We're just that good." Alastair brushed the invisible dust off his shoulder. Sally threw her wadded up napkin at him.

"And you were?"

"I was on the extraction team."

"Ooh, look out."

Alastair grinned. "I'm not sure how it happened. One minute I'm knocking a guy back with a right hook, and the next minute the Queen... the bloody Queen of England! Is holding on to my arm for support. We got her out to the vehicles, and because of the threat, I was ordered into her car. And that's when it happened..."

Sally snickered. "I just can't... I still don't believe it..."

"What? That the Queen offered me a smoke, and I told her 'don't you know those things will kill you?'" Alastair shrugged and Sally snorted. "Apparently it was in poor taste, considering the bomb threat and all."

"Smartarse. No wonder you're stuck behind a desk."

"Don't remind me," Alastair groaned.

 

* * *

 

The car ride to Baskerville was somber, after John relayed Mycroft's message.

Greg revealed his holstered weapon, and he'd given Molly his pocket knife to keep with her.

Sherlock had grumbled about information being withheld from him, which made John fidget in his seat. They'd promised no secrets, and really it was never a matter of _if_ John was going to tell Sherlock about what he'd overheard Henry and Louise discussing, just _when_.

"John..." Sherlock whispered as he searched him over with assessing eyes.

John glanced at Greg and Molly who were whispering to one another, and then quietly relayed what he'd heard. Sherlock watched him intently as he spoke, took up both of his hands in his, but didn't say a word. The remainder of the drive they stayed that way, holding on to one another, watching, searching, memorizing.

 

* * *

 

_Big brother has his sights set on someone. L_

_Whoever is doing the hunting is very good. L_

_Do you realize how moronic it is that you're complimenting the person who could find us out? B_

_I appreciate good work when I see it. I see it so seldom. L_

_You still on base? L_

_Have to make sure Stapleton doesn't wake up, and need to see to the Major. B_

_How long? L_

_Two days. Then the big finish. B_

_Don't get yourself caught. L_

_Is that concern for my well-being for once? B_

_We get caught, this is treason. Don't be a screw up for once in your life, and finish the plan the way we agreed. L_


	24. More Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You don’t know much," said the Duchess; "and that’s a fact."  
> \- Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Chapter 6

It's all well and good that we know who the mole is and apparently the identity of the murderer, but without a speck of evidence - MH

I know. Maybe have Anderson look back through the CCTV footage now that we know who to look for, any chance she actually helped with the murders? Could it be a woman we are looking for not just him? Oh. Can you somehow get the playing cards to me, with a kit to look for any particulates that could link to him? - SD

It will take time, but yes, it can be done. How is Alastair dealing with it? - MH

Sally looked at her companion who had finally fallen asleep, his head nestled on his arms. He appeared to be much younger than his 28 years, though his face showed signs of distress, as if fighting a nightmare.

Well enough considering - he's good, hopefully you will make sure he gets back into field work once we get through this mess? - SD

Perhaps he might be better suited for police work than the subtleties required in his present career path? - MH

Quite possibly. I'll have a bit of a chat with him once he - SD

Once he what? - MH

Gets back from the gents. Anything else? - SD

They have gone to radio silence, no texts or calls since the last round I sent you. All we know is that something will happen in two days. - MH

 

Lieutenant Lyons met the car at the gate as usual, offering a small grin and a "Good morning Sirs, and Ma'am. Hope you catch whoever is behind all this lunacy soon. They got the lab all cleaned up for you, from what I could see it was straight out of one of those pandemic movies... you know men all covered in white from head to toe...anyway, I'm keeping you. Drive on."

As they drove past, John looked down at his phone as it pinged.

 

Our mole is Laura Lyons. Her son -

John swore a blue streak and forced himself to not spin in his seat to catch a glimpse of their culprit.

Her son is the murderer without a doubt. We just have no evidence as yet. Worse yet, he knows we know. So please -

"Be careful." John muttered to himself.

Be careful. I know both you and my brother will try to outdo the other in dying for the other, let's try to keep that to a minimum, shall we?" - MH

Will do our utmost. - JW

 

"Damn and blast." John pinched his nose and kicked the seat in front of him.

"Lyons," muttered Sherlock. "Of course it's Lyons. He already had reason enough to hate us from the last time, and now...what made him...we still know so little..." John watched as the old Sherlock took over; his eyes changed, fingers pressed together, and the machine replaced the man he had grown accustomed to in such a short period of time. John thought back to this morning, and realised it was for the best. The new Sherlock was too uncertain of everything, now unsure of his status with John, the dreams had shaken the foundations of their new relationship. It was time to go back to work. They could fix everything later, he hoped.

Molly and Greg were watching the pair and groaned inwardly as they saw Sherlock revert to his previous persona, they too had become used to the new and improved version. Greg sighed, but realised the car had stopped and their driver was opening their door.

"John, Sherlock, we're here, let's get this guy, yeah?"

John nodded and offered Sherlock his hand, expecting it to be rejected, and it was.

Damn.

 

Sherlock paced as John once again searched in vain for the files. Molly kept an eye on them as Greg began to play catch up with the texts that he had ignored the previous evening.

Where the hell is Donovan? - PA

What do you mean? - GL

She missed the trivia tournament. She never misses it, especially while on holiday. - PA

And? - GL

I went by her flat to check on her and no one answered. - PA

That doesn't mean anything. - GL

There was a stack of newspapers outside her door. You know how she is. - PA

Yeah, I know. - GL

I'm worried. - PA

Don't be, she's a big girl, she can take of herself. Maybe there's a family thing, or she went out of town - just focus on your work, aren't you supposed to be working on the CCTV images? - GL

Yeah, nothing yet, miles of absolutely nothing. - PA

Keep going. - GL

Sir. - PA

 

After a couple of tense, non-productive, silent hours, Molly wondered aloud suddenly, "What if the files are simply renamed?"

John yawned and turned to her, finally seeing her for the first time that day. "Yeah, why not. We usually make it more complicated than it needs be."

"You mean I make it more complicated." Sherlock growled from his perch in the corner, Mycroft knew his brother well enough to make sure there was suitable furniture for him to torture while he worked.

"Not what I said. You are -" John closed his mouth before he made it worse.

"I need a coffee," Sherlock hissed.

"And I need some air." John got up from his chair and sent it spinning into the wall.

"Two sugars." Sherlock yelled after him. "Better yet, make it three."

 

Donovan shook her head. "Ah, the Freak is back. Something happened to him last night, or this morning. He's shut down. Damn. Well, perhaps he can focus now that he's not so worried, or at least not so outwardly worried about John."

"Yeah, something definitely spooked him." Alastair muttered. "He's tense, very focused but he keeps an eye on John when he thinks John is focused on the screen."

"This place has bad memories for both of them, I don't know the whole story, but Mycroft must have twisted their arms pretty hard to get them back here."

"You've known them a long time, then."

"Too long, I've known Sherlock since I was a rookie and he was still - " Donovan blinked and saw the sadness in Sherlock's eyes before he closed them again and bellowed:

"Where are the playing cards?! There must be some trace of him there. Get Myc on the phone, I want those cards. Now!"

"There he is, back from holiday, finally. Between us, we'll nail this guy, sooner than later."

"You were saying? About Sherlock -"

"Never you mind, it's ancient history. Let's just say, we've known each other long enough to know the other's weaknesses. His only weakness now is how much he loves John Watson. At least I think it's a weakness. Don't know, never loved or been loved that way before."

"Me either."

 

The cards are being analysed by an outside agency, brother dear, nice to see you back to work, though do try to channel that energy into results, not into antagonising your partner. - MH

What do you care, Mycroft? - SH

It was nice to see you happy for once, brother mine, try not to sabotage it. - MH

I can't focus on him, right now, Myc. I don't know whether I'm enough for him to stay. I need to get this finished, I need, we need to get back to Baker Street. - SH

You are close, just a few loose ends, I know it doesn't matter as my opinion on sentiment carries little weight, but it seems to me you are more than enough for your good doctor, he not only got you a coffee, but he managed to find you a bowl of cherries if that means anything. - MH

Just get us out of here, Myc, please? - SH

Soon. - MH

 

The cards are on their way, Donovan. should be delivered by this afternoon. I'm sure you can see speed is of the utmost importance. He's - MH

Yeah, I see it. Know what happened? - SD

The worst thing for him, doubt. He's questioning if he's enough for Dr. Watson. Obviously something happened last night to make him revert to form. If he can focus on the case, it's better for everyone. The quicker we find the evidence, the faster he can get home, they can get home. - MH

 

"Got it! You're a genius, Molly." John grinned at her after half an hour of digging. "There they are, the formulas, the test results...test results...oh. God. Sherlock. Animals and then...these four weren't the only victims."

Sherlock stood behind John's chair and read the data as it sped by. He almost reached for John's hand but stopped himself. He couldn't, not until John was safe, not until they were home.

"Perhaps justice was served."

"Sherlock! You can't mean that!" Molly put her hand to her mouth. "I saw the bodies, you only saw photographs. They didn't die easily or well."

"There are thirty test subjects. All homeless, people they thought were unwanted, undeserving of respect...I do mean it, Molly. You of all people should understand how I feel about -"

Molly nodded.

"We still need to stop him. Dr. Hooper, it's time we got to work. John, print them out before the files vanish again. If you wouldn't mind." 

 

Lieutenant Lyons smiled as he saw John glance sadly at Sherlock's departing form; an added bonus, he thought to himself. What gives them the right to be happy? Ah well, at least they didn't know what he was planning for his finale. It would be too late for all of them by the time they figured it out. It was almost time to begin; he began to type out his letter of resignation that would be on Barrymore's desk in the morning. He looked at the old photo on his desk and sighed. "Almost done, it's almost finished. You'd be so proud of me." He printed out the document and placed it in an envelope, then shoved it in a drawer and locked it. He went out to greet the next vehicle, smiling and waving them through, as if he hadn't a care in the world. Perhaps he hadn't.


	25. Machinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"'So you think you're changed, do you?'"_  
>  -Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Chapter 5

"Sherlock Holmes, you get your sorry arse back here this instant!" Molly charged into the hall after him, and grabbed him by the arm.

"Let go." Sherlock's voice was low and almost threatening. He froze rigidly in place. Molly did not back down.

"None of this dashing off on your own like a madman bullshit." She pulled on his arm until he turned to face her with a glare. "And don't you dare try condescension with me. Dr. Hooper? I'm Molly. You call me Molly. And that's John..." Molly shoved him to the doorway so he had to look in. John sighed in resignation, but didn't look away from the apparently vital task of printing the damning files. "Remember? John? καρδιά μου?" She butchered the pronunciation, which earned her a disdainful grimace from Sherlock.

"Do you hope to reach a conclusion any time soon?" Sherlock snapped.

"You can't go alone. We already know it's not safe. W-why don't..." Molly questioned her own resolve for just a moment before plunging ahead. "Why don't you take John with you? Greg and I can..."

"No!" Molly and John both jumped at Sherlock's forceful retort. Confused, Greg looked up from the file he was reading with a frown. "I don't want Jo- He has to stay here. I need..." Sherlock stammered, and then his features hardened again. "He stays here. He's a doctor, he understands what he's looking at. You too, Molly. I need you and John to work on..." Sherlock waved his hand dismissively at the desk where John was seated.

John refused to make eye contact.

"Fine, then Greg will go with you." Molly glared at Sherlock and her heart ached for him. She could see the vulnerability and self doubt, the fear of losing the one thing that mattered most, hidden just under the surface, and his only line of defense was this, the automaton facade. She could also see the strain on John, the struggle to keep it together, just a little while longer. If she could see it, Molly knew Sherlock saw it too. God they needed to get away from this place.

Sherlock huffed in frustration. "Graham can come, if he can keep up, and if he stays out of my way." He turned on his heel and strode down the hall.

Greg jumped up from his seat, tossed the file down, and paused long enough to clasp John's shoulder. "Sorry, mate."

John swallowed hard and nodded once, staring straight ahead the whole time.

 

* * *

 

It had been twenty minutes since she first noticed. The hum of whispers. The air nearly vibrated with the nervous energy.

Fifteen minutes since the last bulletin with updates about the search for the security breach flashed across her monitor.

A few quick keystrokes, and she finished typing the coded message and embedded it where she knew only one person would find it. He'd be the only one who would know to even look for it.

With steady hands she logged out of the system for the last time. She drank down the last of her coffee and dropped the paper cup in the bin. Watered her fern with the water bottle she always kept in her bag. Shuffled the stack of papers into a tidy pile, and straightened a few odds and ends.

And then she sat, spine straight, shoulders squared, unmoving.

Twenty five minutes after the last bulletin outlining the fate of "the individual in question" was sent, she heard their approach in the corridor. Her back was to the door, but she knew the moment they came to a halt she'd been burned.

"Laura Lyons, please step slowly away from the desk and keep your hands visible."

Her veins ran cold. Her only hope had been the possibility of leniency, but there would be none she knew. Not when the first person she saw when she turned around was Mycroft Holmes himself.

 

* * *

 

"John..."

"Not now, Molly." John fought the bile that burned the back of his throat and breathed purposefully through his nose. He knew what Sherlock was doing. Hell, he'd expected it. Practically begged him to hurry up and solve the damn case. That's exactly what Sherlock was trying to do. He was compartmentalizing and separating, because that's what Sherlock did. There wasn't room for sentiment in this case. Grit in the lens, and all that rot.

Molly stood behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, but John flinched away. "Sorry," she sounded as if she were near tears, and John closed his eyes with a sigh. "He didn't mean it. This, you two togther, is so new, and he's still figuring out the balance. You know he didn't mean it right?"

"Which part?" John turned his face from the computer for the first time since Sherlock left. He spun his chair to face Molly. "The part where he didn't want me, or the part where he'd rather work with Greg? Because yes, Molly, he did mean those things. He doesn't say things he doesn't mean."

"John."

"He doesn't need me to solve this case. He even tried to give me an out. You heard him, offered to let me stay in London. This morning, he begged Molly, Sherlock begged me to stay behind at Henry's."

"But, he's just..."

"I know, Molly. It's this case. And it's too much all at once. I'm not leaving him, I'm not giving up... This ache," he put his hand over his heart, "It's my problem, not his." John smiled, and Molly saw the herculean effort that went into the simple gesture. She opened he mouth to retort when John’s mobile pinged.

 

_Laura Lyons apprehended as security breach. MH_

_That is excellent news. JW_

_We're uncertain if Lt. Lyons is aware. Could provoke him to action. Be aware. MH_

_Thanks for the heads up. JW_

_For what it's worth, my brother is monumentally ignorant when it comes to anything emotional. But he has begun to understand what he would lose if something were to happen to you. MH_

_Pushing me away to keep me safe. Been there, done that. Still stings. JW_

_Give him time. He cares very deeply for you. MH_

_Some might say he loves you. MH_

_Well, I've had about all I can take. Thanks for the update, Mycroft. JW_

 

John shook his head and let Molly read the conversation. "Oh god." She winced. "Well, he tried."

John rolled his eyes as he printed out the bulletin that Laura Lyons had been arrested. He clicked open the next file and started to skim through it, hoping Molly would take the hint. Just in case... "Molly, can you text the others that part about Lyons? Ta."

He turned back to the screen and continued reading. "Oh... shit."

"What?" Molly was right behind him again.

"The test subjects weren't the only ones who died during the testing phase. One of the secondary scientists did as well. A Dr. Ross. He was exposed when a test subject fought back." John printed out the report and then did a quick search for the doctor's personnel file. When he opened it, Molly gasped behind him.

"Bloody hell."

 

* * *

 

He'd not had word from her in several hours, which wasn't like her at all. She was a spiteful shrew, but she was protective and she never failed to check in.

Fearing the worst, Lt. Bradley Lyons knew better than to initiate a text conversation. He'd be giving himself up for sure. He resorted to the simplistic code his mother had come up with.

She had a habit of checking on him by CCTV feed every half hour while he was on duty. He'd scratch his left eyebrow with his left ring finger. If all was well she was able to manipulate the camera just enough for him alone to see it move.

He'd signaled her four times already, and nothing.

To be perfectly honest, the unease he felt wasn't for her well-being at all. He could feel a net closing around him. But it wasn't time. Not yet. He just needed to be careful.

 

* * *

 

Alastair had only been asleep, sprawled across Sally's bed, for forty-five minutes when their mobiles pinged simultaneously. He startled awake, scrambled up and fumbled it to open the text.

 

_Laura Lyons is in custody. MH_

 

"Dammit." Alastair punched the wall.

"Thank god." Sally murmured at the same time. They glanced at each other, and Sally saw the hurt in Alastair's eyes. "I'm so sorry, Al."

He sniffed, blinked a few times and shook his head. "Doesn't... She's a criminal. A terrorist. It's for the best."

"Do you need..."

"I need to catch Brad and be done with this godawful nightmare."

"Fair enough." Sally nodded and turned back to her monitor. She'd been watching Lt. Lyons. "What? What's he doing? He keeps doing that. Al, look at this would you?"

Alastair took a shuddering breath and leaned over Sally's shoulder. "Play it back. Again." He squinted. "Again." He shook his head. "I don't see it, Sally."

With an almighty sigh, Sally backed the recording up exactly thirty minutes, and there it was again. Lyons scratched his eyebrow with his ring finger. She backed it up another thirty minutes, and he did it again. "A code?"

Alastair nodded and quickly took over the keyboard. He went back to the footage from the day before when Lyons was on duty, and found a a clip of the same ritual, except that time the images shifted, only minutely, first left, then right, then back to center. Lyons watched the camera the whole time, then gave a tiny nod.

Alastair leaned back in his chair and ran his hands through his hair. "Shit." He looked to Sally. "Now what?"

"Let's play."

With a nod, Alastair took control of the camera. Sally brought the feed back up. Lyons scratched his brow again. Alastair moved the camera just a tick to left, two ticks to the right, and then back to the center. A look of relief passed over Lyons' face, but he righted himself quickly and went back to work.

"And now we wait." Sally's smiled deviously.

 

* * *

 

"Sherlock..."

"Busy." Sherlock grunted as he fought with the stubborn lock on Dr. Stapleton's desk. It never took him this long to pick any lock, let alone a simple desk lock. He grumbled to himself.

Try as he might, he couldn't do it. He'd meant to lock all of it away, the discovery of how he and John met, Greece, the confessions and declarations, the dreams, the need, the want, the proposal, goddamn Watson kissing goddamn Holmes, John... perfect John... just all of John... He'd tried, he really had, to lock it away so he could focus on the case.

But at that moment, all he could think about was the hurt on John's beautiful, open face, and that was it. Suddenly he had forgotten how to pick a lock. With a frustrated roar, he yanked on the drawer and it snapped free, pulling out from the desk completely and spilling the contents on the floor. He dropped to his knees to sift through the mess.

"Dammit, Sherlock. You have to calm down." Greg hissed. "I agreed not to talk about... you know... but it seems like you're thinking about him anyway, so..."

"What I'm thinking about," Sherlock snapped, "is the fact that my lazy brother has already made an arrest on his end, but we've got nothing to go on here. And now Lt. Lyons has yet another reason for revenge, but we've not uncovered the first." Sherlock stood to his feet and kicked the drawer across the office.

"I can't think. It's all out of order." He tugged at his hair as he paced back and forth across the width of the room. He desperately needed... something. No, not something... someone. John. He needed John, and he'd ruined everything... Stop! He needed to focus. Focus. Not John. Focus. On the case. On Lt. Lyons. Dr. Stapleton. Murder. Why murder? Love? He loved John. So much... Stop. Possibly love. Revenge? Yes, more likely. But why. And who was the retaliation against? Major Barrymore? Stapleton?

"Sherlock..."

Sherlock grunted and flapped his hand at Greg.

"Sherlock," Greg sounded urgent.

"What?" Sherlock ground out.

"I found..."

"What could you have possibly found that I missed, Gavin? What?"

"Motive." Greg held up a newspaper clipping

Sherlock froze. Greg rolled his eyes and handed him the obituary of Dr. Matthew Ross. Sherlock recognized the name from those who had worked on the experiment. The write up was vague on cause of death, listing an accident at work. And at the very end the were the words, "Survived by wife Laura Lyons, and stepson Lt. Bradley Lyons."

He looked up with fierce glistening eyes and a predatory grin that made Greg shudder. "Oh, yes. I've got him now."

 

* * *

 

_Glad to see you didn't get yourself caught. Moving things up a bit. Tomorrow afternoon. By 1600 everything will be done. B_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're doing our best to use canon characters for this story. We had to get a little creative with Dr. Ross though. In ACD's story Silver Blaze, Holmes and Watson travel to Dartmoor to investigate a missing racehorse. The owner of the horse is Colonel Ross (no first name given). So, we borrowed another resident of the moor for our story, and gave him a first name.


	26. Ruminations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?”  
> “That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,” said the Cat.  
> “I don’t much care where–” said Alice.  
> “Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,” said the Cat.  
> “–so long as I get SOMEWHERE,” Alice added as an explanation.  
> “Oh, you’re sure to do that,” said the Cat, “if you only walk long enough.”

Sherlock and Greg stared at the texts on their phones.

Lyons has something big planned tomorrow @ 1600. Go home and rest. - MH

"Dammit!" Sherlock banged his hand on the desk. "There's still too much left to do. I need to collect more evidence so this arsehole doesn't get away with it. We have motive, and records, but if this ever goes to trial..."

Greg looked at him and shrugged. "You know as well as I do that if Lyons lives past tomorrow, this case won't see the inside of the Old Bailey. They will disappear. Your brother will shut this place down faster than you - you go back in that room and apologise to your...whatever John is to you. Do it now. This case is closed. The two of you need to go back to Henry's and talk this out. Actually. Forget talking, just touch him, let him know..."

He was talking to himself. Sherlock had turned on his heel at the suggestion that he apologise to John and was on his way to pick up his coat, scarf and gloves.

John and Molly had their heads together looking over the construction of the synthetic belladonna. "...it's beautiful...in that man-made kind of way..." They stopped when Sherlock cleared his throat. "Are you ready to go back to Henry's?"

John shook his head. "We still need to figure out what his plan is, it must be something bigger than just another murder. I, we, don't know how..."

"John."

"Sherlock. This is by far the safest place for us. The mole is under arrest, we know who the murderer is, we just have to catch him in the act. He isn't after Molly and me specifically, and Mycroft's men are everywhere, you can't spit without hitting one. You need to go to Henry's, eat something and -"

"Fine. Greg?"

"Yeah, right, maybe Sherlock and I can talk this through, piece this together. Uhm, see you tomorrow, Molly? I -"

"Oh fer chrissakes, stay if you want to babysit them. I can't think here." Sherlock threw on his coat and scarf, stuffed his gloves into his pocket and swirled out of the room.

 

"FUCK!! Sherlock, you arse! John, go get him, go after him, oh, shit." Sally pushed away from the computers and started for her jacket.

"No, Sally, you can't."

"What do you mean, I can't, Alastair?" She sneered at him. "I have a gun, that says I - hey, where is my piece? Oh, right, of course you took it while I slept that first night. Fuck."

"I know they're your friends, but -"

"NO. No. They are most definitely NOT my friends. We can't stand each other. Oh, damn it, Alastair." Finally, Sally had had enough. Alastair waited for her to melt to the floor and walked carefully to her side, then knelt next to her.

"Uhm...can I -?"

"NOPE. Do NOT touch me. Please, if you value our friendship, uh...whatever it is we're doing here... you will not touch me. Just let me be for a minute. Just let me be..." Alastair watched as Sally closed her eyes and fell asleep, even after four extra large coffees and anything chocolate she could lay her hands on. He shook his head and got a blanket from the bed.

"You're a decent sort, Sally Donovan. Don't ever let anyone tell you different." He covered her carefully, then sat back down at the computers, and watched as John and Molly went back to work, hoping to determine what Lyons' had up his sleeve.

 

Sherlock was silent on the ride back to Henry's. Greg checked his messages, texted a few responses, nothing from Anderson yet. No big surprise there. He looked up to watch Sherlock beat out a rhythm with his fingers against his knee. He knew enough about music from music lessons that were forced upon him in his childhood that Sherlock was drumming out an intricate composition. He tried to follow it but it wasn't a piece he knew.

Sherlock sighed, stopped tapping his knee and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "If you must know, it's a piece I wrote for John, for us, while we were on holiday. I haven't finished it yet. It was meant to be part of his birthday present...and yes, I do know when his birthday is, I never forget anything about - fuck. What is it like, Greg?"

"What is what like?"

"To carry those feelings you've had for Dr - Molly for all that time, and now, you are leaving her there in Baskerville, to work on a case, when all you want to do is -"

"Put her in a car and send her back to London yesterday?"

Sherlock nodded. "I can't separate John from the work. I've never been able to, but before, I had a way of simply turning the feelings I had off, so I could focus on the case. Now, I need him, I need him so I can focus on the case, it physically hurts being away from him. We haven't slept apart really since our first night in Greece. And now, I can't even see him, I can't speak to him."

Greg thought for a few minutes and chose his words carefully. "She's in my head, in my heart all the time. Even if we aren't together. We haven't had all the time you guys have had, to know what the other is really like. I honestly don't even know how this will work out. You and John are different. My ya-ya, she knew of people like you and John. She could point them out to me, they had a certain light in their eyes, a way of smiling, touching...like you and John have. Didn't matter their age; old married couples, teenagers, kids, she knew from a distance. If she were here, she'd look you in the eye and tell you to march your arse back there and hold on tight to him, let him know. But you aren't going to do that, because you are you, and John is John. And the world will keep turning. It will. Even if it feels like hell right now."

Sherlock nodded and looked out the window at the newly fallen snow. "Henry was right."

"About?"

"This place has a certain beauty to it, kind of a Grimm fairy tale beauty, but beautiful all the same."

 

"You know you should have gone back with him."

"No."

"No?"

John shook his head. "There are times when we need space from each other, physical space. This is just the first time we've been apart and angry, hmmm, no, not angry exactly, just at odds...in disagreement...fuck, I have no clue what is going on right now." He rubbed his face and sighed, "I mean I know, he got scared, he, uhm...I, uhm, kissed him this morning, well, kind of me...hard to explain...but it made him think that I need more from him, than what we have. I bailed. I confused him because I couldn't tell him what I wanted. Of course, it would be brilliant to have that kind of relationship with him, but it isn't something that is necessary for me. I've never felt that he wants that from me, and..."

"Ask him."

"What?"

"Just ask him what he wants?"

"We always seem to just know, it's not something we usually have to discuss, because we always talk, we're always touching, so we can tell...and now. Oh, fuck, Molly, how could I have let him just walk away?" John buried his face in his hands trying to find a way to breathe properly.

"You knew what both of you needed. Space. Now, let's get to work. Things will work out, I know it." Molly squeezed John's arm and they went back to the printouts that were spread out in front of them.

 

Sherlock silently picked at his food, and excused himself. He walked over to the roaring fire, where Bluebell was resting, she had been left home that morning, as they rushed out the door. Sherlock gave her a brief head rub then sat down next to her leaving his hand in her fur. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of tobacco, leather bound books and gas lamps...

"Damn it."

"We need to talk."

"No. I need to talk to John. Not you."

"I am him, he is, me. Just...I don't understand how it works yet, but you can tell me what you need to tell him, and he will know."

"And you can speak for him?"

"Seems to work that way."

"So when you, he, kissed me, this morning, it was him wanting to kiss me?"

"I kissed Holmes...erm, you, in order to shut him, you, up, and it worked. But, you took it to mean he, I wanted something more from you. Right?"

Sherlock nodded. 

"Did I ever make you feel like I wanted more than what we had in Greece?"

Sherlock shook his head and bit his lip.

"Do you want more than what we have?" John asked him gently as he took Sherlock's hands in his.

Sherlock looked down at their hands that seemed to have melded together. "No." He whispered. "I don't need more because you already give me everything, John. I'm so sorry. I'm just afraid that you want, uhm, need, more than what I can give you."

"Αγάπη μου. Look at me. Please?"

Sherlock looked into almost his John's eyes and blinked. He could see John there, watching him, loving him, understanding him as he always had, always would.

"Sherlock?" Greg whispered. 

"Hmmm?"

"Sherlock, you don't want to sleep like this, c'mon let me help you get up." Lestrade helped him to his feet. "We have some news."

"News? John - is he?" Lestrade saw something like fear in Sherlock's bleary eyes.

"No, no - He's fine, we finally have some evidence. Anderson finally found something, found them together on the last murder scene."

"What? She actually helped him with the last one?"

"Don't know about that, just know she was there, have them both on a separate camera that the victim had set up, Lyons and his mum knew nothing about it because she had it installed sometime after the murders began. She was becoming paranoid, according to witnesses, and she was becoming more home bound. Mycroft -"

"Mycroft?" Sherlock's jaw dropped.

"Your brother thought there may have been a camera that was missed. He almost missed it. But, he knew what he was looking for, where it most likely would be; he pulled the camera out and dropped it on Anderson's desk late yesterday afternoon, muttered something at him, that according to his co-workers made Anderson move faster than he ever had before in his life. No one even knew it was him, he was wearing...uhm...get this...sweats and a hoodie. Anderson only knew it was him, from the 'poshy - arsehole voice that could only come from a Holmes' and he knew you were here."

Sherlock almost cracked a smile. "He does like a bit field work once in a while." 

"Anyway..." They walked into Henry's study and found Mycroft and Henry sitting in front of the fire, quietly sipping an old brandy.

"Mycroft...no lectures. Just tell me you can arrest him...dammit. Why are you here then?"

"I know what Lyons plans to do, or we will know, shortly. Wait, a moment. You have to believe me, when I tell you John is safe where he is at present time."

"Myc -" Sherlock started, his voice becoming dangerous, low and quiet.

Mycroft sighed and narrowed his eyes at him and he stopped, then grudgingly dropped into a chair that Mycroft had pushed towards him.

Mycroft stood and stared into the fire, finished the brandy and began. "At first Laura Lyons was defiant, said absolutely nothing. Did not ask for a solicitor, or a cup of water, visit to the loo, nothing. Just sat and stared into space. She was my best operative, Sherlock. The very best. Once she retired from the field, she remarried, and she settled into desk work; she was a good mentor, but restless, she missed the excitement, the rush, she told me once a few years ago. But life was good, until her husband died...we covered it up, naturally, buried the direct cause, she found out later, must have told her son at some point..."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but made no further comment.

"Her son appeared to be stable, he rose through the ranks here, personable, though not considered the brightest, he tested average, perhaps he may have fudged the tests to throw us, but his career was proceeding normally...he was duly promoted, and worked in security...his behaviour changed a bit after his stepfather died, he was somewhat...attached."

"Oh dear Lord, not attached..." Sherlock stood up and walked over to the window. Would it ever stop snowing? He rested his forehead against the cold glass and he nodded off to the sound of his brother's voice.

 

John closed his eyes for a moment while Molly took a loo break. 

"Watson?"

"Holmes? Sherlock?"

"Forgive me?"

"Αγάπη μου, you know you never -"

"No. I got scared, this place does this to me, I lose my way. I know my way is you, but ever since we've been back, it's been hard to trust my heart, not yours, mine. Which of course I know, I know, John, is the same thing, I do truly understand that now. I've relied on my senses, my hard drive for so long, it will take me time to adjust. Please..."

"Καρδιά μου, είμαι εδώ..."

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock's eyes snapped open.

"Did you hear me? She gave us a password to his journal, it will tell us everything that he has planned, but I need you and Lestrade to go back in tonight to retrieve his laptop. He believes himself to be safe. She told us where it is kept. Then she refused to say another word, simply got up and followed the guard. She was not only my best recruit, she was my first."

Sherlock walked over to his brother's chair and stood behind it, took a deep breath and laid a hesitant hand on his brother's shoulder. He felt Mycroft freeze for a moment, then relax a bit under his fingers.

"I am sorry, Mycroft."

 

Sally looked around wondering what she was doing on the carpet. Oh right. Damn. Threw a strop. How does John put up with that - oh, yeah. Fuck. She went into the loo and splashed water on her face. "Mycroft, you sonofabitch, you owe me big time."

"Yes, he does," murmured Alastair from his computer. "We got him, Donovan. You got him."


	27. Through and Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _One, two! One, two! And through and through_  
>  _The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!_  
>  _He left it dead, and with its head_  
>  _He went galumphing back._  
>  -Lewis Carroll, Jabberwocky

"Oh god. What am I looking at here?" Sally yawned and rubbed her eyes.

"Ugh, these two." Alastair motioned to the monitor. Molly and John had moved to the lab; both were wearing lab coats, gloves, masks, and protective eye wear. "Most of the time you were asleep they were reading those damn files, every once in a while one of them would mumble something I'm sure was in English, but I didn't understand it, and they'd trade off pages."

Alastair checked his watch. "About twenty minutes ago, John started swearing... And god, I'd never repeat that in a million years..." Sally managed a huffed laugh and a knowing nod. "He showed Molly his pages and... You'd never guess it from looking at her, but the mouth on that girl. Yikes."

Sally did laugh at that. "So what did they find?"

"From what I can actually understand, there are different strands of the experimental drug, each with varying properties. They're checking the vials now, but they seem to think Brad stole multiple versions of the drug, and that means..."

"Whatever he's got planned could be varying degrees of terrible all at once." Sally slumped back in her chair. "He's going to unleash the apocalypse."

"Or die trying." Alastair mumbled as he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.

"Why don't you..."

"Can't. Not now." Alastair shook his head.

"I can manage this for a while." Sally yawned again.

"Sure you can. We both need to stay focused. They finally got Laura to talk, and she gave them the password to the journal Brad keeps on his laptop. Greg and Sherlock are coming back to get it." Alastair picked up an empty coffee cup and stared longingly into it.

"Can't you just access it from here?"

"It's not an online journal, just a document, and he doesn't keep it connected to the wifi. He was always a bit paranoid about hackers and... Shit. Oh my god." Alastair jumped up from his chair and dashed from the room before Sally could question him.

He crashed around the room next door and came tearing back into Sally's room, slamming the door behind him. He swept the snack wrappers and papers off the desk with his arm and sat his laptop down. He pulled an energy drink from the pocket of his hoody, popped it open and took a gulp. He handed Sally a cold water bottle, also from his pocket, and dropped a small paper bag in her lap. "I was gonna give you these when we finished, but you're gonna need them now."

Sally peeked into the bag and groaned. "How did you know?" She sighed contentedly as she put two dark chocolate covered coffee beans in her mouth.

"Uhm... lucky guess?"

"Riiight. I'll let it go for now. What's this?"

Alastair had started typing away furiously on his laptop. "Dark web."

"Excuse me?" Sally nearly choked on her coffee beans. "Dark web. You actually..."

"Laura showed me. It's been infinitely useful in tracking terrorist cells." He continued to type.

"Human trafficking and drug cartels too." Sally added.

"Hmm." Alastair nodded, but didn't take his eyes off the screen. He worked furiously until... "God... Dammit!" He shouted a few things Sally was sure she'd only ever heard John use as swear words.

"What? What is it?" Sally watched Alastair carefully. He had a white knuckle grip on the arms of his chair and his eyes roamed repeatedly over the screen. He was shaking. "Al?" She gently put her hand on his cheek and turned his face to hers. "What did you find?"

"Laura. She left me a message. He isn't going to wait until 1600 to get started. The whole process takes twelve hours. He needs twelve hours."

"And then what, Al? Tell me?"

"They'll all be dead by 1600." Alastair was making every effort to control his breathing.

"They?" Sally stood up slowly. She felt surprisingly calm and knew it was pure, terror fueled adrenaline. "Who exactly?"

"Everyone..." He motioned to the monitors and all the people moving around the base, even at that ungodly hour. "He's going to make his move at 0400. We've got... ninety minutes." Alastair had gone completely pale.

"Then we need to get over there and stop him, yeah?" Sally squared her shoulders resolutely.

"You gonna tell Mycroft where we're going?"

"Nope." Sally pulled on her coat. "Neither are you. He'll figure it out soon enough. C'mon. You can break us in with your computer magic on the way there. Oh... and Al?"

"Yeah, Sally?" Alastair looked up from tying his shoe.

She held out her hand expectantly. "I'll be needing my gun now."

* * *

 

Sitting in the darkened, unused office, Lyons accessed the security cameras in Major Barrymore's private quarters. He'd paid a Corporal to pound on Barrymore's door until he answered at 0245, and hand him an envelope. Innocuous enough.

The Corporal was right on time, and the Major did not keep him waiting. He turned the envelope over a few times, then tore it open.

Major Barrymore was nothing if not predictable. As he read he grew visibly agitated. He threw the letter down and poured himself a generous tumbler of scotch. He drank it down and poured another before picking the letter back up.

By the time the Major finished the letter, he'd finished his second drink. As he turned to pour another, Lyons could tell he was sweating and his breathing was labored. The Major reached out for the telephone on the side table, but collapsed before he could make the call.

Accessing the alarm system, Lyons triggered the medical emergency alarm. He sent a message to the infirmary that Major Barrymore had suffered cardiac distress.

"That should keep everyone in disarray for the next hour." Lyons reached over and picked up a long forgotten picture frame. He traced the face of the man holding the younger version of himself at the zoo. "They did this to themselves, Matthew. When they killed you, they took away everything. It's time they suffered the way you did."

He tucked the frame into his pocket, ducked into the hall and disappeared amidst the chaos.

* * *

"Bloody hell!" Molly jumped when the alarm sounded overhead. "What..."

John paused and listened to the codes being called. "Medical emergency. Cardiac arrest." He glanced at Molly with a grim look.

"It's started. He's..."

With a nod John pulled off his gloves and pushed his glasses up onto his head. "It would appear so." He quickly made sure the sliding door to the lab was in its locked position. Pulling his gun from where he'd  tucked it against the small of his back, John checked the clip and then placed it carefully on the counter.

"Let him come."

* * *

 

"Sirs, I can let you in the front gate, but you'll have to wait in the visitor's area just inside the main entrance until the all clear is sounded."

Sherlock forced the car door open, shoving the guard backwards. "What's happened?" He demanded as he climbed from the car and stepped menacingly up to the guard. "Tell me what's happened."

He was nearly in a rage, but Greg could clearly hear the sheer panic in his voice. Not that Greg faulted him, he was very near panicking himself.

"Tell me!" Sherlock shouted again.

"Medical emergency. It's all I'm at liberty to say."

Sherlock glanced once at Greg and took off at a sprint. "Dammit Sherlock!" Greg shouted as he followed after him.

The guard and the driver shrugged at one another, and the car was motioned through.

* * *

"You're sure this is where he's coming?" The racket from the machinery was such that Sally had to speak directly into Alastair's ear.

"Yes. It was all in Laura's message." He checked his watch. "0300 hours. He'll be here any time now."

Sally nodded and settled into a low crouch, tucked between the equipment and the wall. Alastair mimicked her posture. They both silenced their phones and felt for their holstered weapons, then settled back to wait.

* * *

_Why do I have CCTV confirmation of your presence on base? MH_

_Sergeant Donovan. MH_

* * *

"So, we're agreed then?" John swallowed hard. "If he's going to use the drug, this is the most effective way to do it."

Molly nodded. "Nothing else makes logical sense."

John nodded in agreement. "I've got to go down there."

"No! John, call Mycroft. Have him send someone." Molly caught his hand as he hung up the lab coat.

"It could be done by the time they get there. I'm closer." John tucked his gun against his back once more. "You still have Greg's knife?"

"I'm going with you." Molly tossed her lab coat to the counter.

"No, Molly. You have to stay. Please."

"Why? Why do I have to stay?" Molly stood in front of him, an immovable force.

"Because..." John turned his face away. When he looked back, his eyes were full of sorrow. "Because Sherlock and I, we're... connected. He knows my heart. He'll know... No matter what happens, he'll know... But Greg... Greg's going to need you to be here when he comes in."

"You don't think Sherlock will tear this place apart when he gets here and you're not here?" Molly sniffed and blinked rapidly.

"I know he will." John hugged her and then stepped to the door. "Lock this as soon as I go out." He showed her the mechanism. "And don't let anyone in who isn't me, Sherlock or Greg."

Molly nodded. As the door slid shut she shouted after him, "Don't you dare die, John Watson! Don't you do that to Sherlock!"

John released a slow purposeful breath and squared his shoulders. If he had his way, the only body they'd need to worry about would be that bastard Lyons. He was exhausted, heartsick, and ready for the case to be done. No way he'd let one of Mycroft's minions be the one to put Lyons down. "This ends now."

* * *

"Mycroft, tell them I have access. Tell them to let me in." Sherlock was snarling and glaring at the guard who was refusing them access to the rest of the facility.

"I'm sorry sir, we're under emergency protocol." She meekly directed her comments to Greg as Sherlock raged into his mobile.

"Brother, what would you have me do?"

"You have codes. Give this incompetent, mindless drone one of your magic pass codes, and make her let us through!"

Mycroft sighed. "Hand the poor woman your mobile."

With a self-satisfied smirk, Sherlock thrust the phone at the guard. She gulped and held it to her ear. "H-hello..." She paled visibly as Mycroft spoke, then handed the phone back to Sherlock. "So sorry, sirs." The doors slid open immediately.

Greg rolled his eyes and whispered an apology before jogging after Sherlock.

"What's happening?" Sherlock demanded.

"They're reporting that Major Barrymore suffered a cardiac event." Sherlock could hear the strain in Mycroft's voice.

"But..."

"Don't be dull, Sherlock."

Sherlock growled and disconnected the call. "Barrymore's been poisoned." He quickened his pace.

"Shit." Greg carded his hand through his hair. "Now what?"

"Now we retrieve the arsehole's laptop, and we get John..."

"And Molly," Greg added forcefully.

Sherlock nodded, "and Molly, and..."

"Let Mycroft's men do their thing?"

Coming to a sudden halt so that Greg almost collided with him, Sherlock’s shoulders tensed for a moment and then slumped. When he turned on Greg, it wasn't the imperious, slightly terrifying Consulting Detective as he expected. Sherlock looked worn down, near breaking. "Yes. I think this time, Mycroft can..." He didn't finish the thought, but looked down at his feet.

"Sherlock, they're fine, yeah? Let's just get what we came for and get out of here."

With a nod, Sherlock led Greg down a corridor of private quarters, and they quickly located Lyons' rooms. Greg unholstered his weapon and took lead as Sherlock swung the door open.

"Clear. He's not here." Greg called out.

The laptop was exactly where Laura had said it would be. Sherlock checked the password just to be sure, and released a sigh of relief when it worked.

"C'mon. Let's go get them." Greg smiled, and motioned for Sherlock to lead the way.

They made their way quickly through the maze of corridors, until Sherlock suddenly stopped once more. He glanced around them. The lighting had been dimmed for the night and all the office lights were off, the hall was dark with shadows.

Greg saw the moment terror registered on Sherlock's face. "Sherlock? Mate?"

"The thing... the thing you said about your, uhm, your ya-ya. You believed her?" Sherlock started walking at a more rapid pace.

"Yeah... yeah of course."

"John and I have dreams. We can communicate. Sometimes the dreams show us things from the past, or things to prepare for." Sherlock had started jogging.

"Ho-kaay."

"I've dreamed this. Not this exactly... but this. And..." Sherlock heaved a sob and covered his mouth.

"Run." Greg took Sherlock's hand and they sprinted to the office where they'd left John and Molly.

"God damn it." Greg shouted. Still clinging to his hand, Sherlock dragged Greg to the lab. His access card wouldn't work.

"John? John!" Frantic, Sherlock pounded on the door relentlessly.

"C'mon Molly, open up." Greg begged.

The door slid open, revealing Molly with red rimmed eyes on the other side. Sherlock shoved past her, and Greg caught her in a tight embrace. He breathed her in deeply.

"Where..." Sherlock stood in the middle of the lab, barely breathing, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "John. Where is he..."

"L-lyons is going to poison the water. We figured it out. John went... I couldn't stop..." Molly could no longer hold back the tears. "He hasn't come back yet."

Sherlock blanched. He took a shuddering breath and then took off at a full run. Greg tossed the laptop onto the counter, grabbed Molly's hand, and dashed after him.

They were near, so near. Sherlock could hear their voices. He heard John's voice clearly, and realized he'd been repeating John’s name quietly the entire time he ran. One more corner. Then another corridor. So close.

His heart nearly stopped when he heard one and then a second gun shot.

* * *

John made his approach quietly, staying to the shadows. He inched his way to the open door of the water treatment lab and watched as Lyons tampered with the water purification system. The machinery was loud and John relaxed marginally as he stepped into room.

Ducking behind a desk John watched Lyons work. He scanned the room for any kind of advantage. The only possibility he saw was to sneak behind the tanks and approach Lyons from behind. He waited for Lyons to turn then crept along the wall.

"The hell... Sally?" John hissed as he dropped into a crouch.

"Damn it John, why are you here? Where's Sherlock?"

John closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. He opened his mouth to retort, but froze. He cast her a sidelong glance and stood slowly.

"John..." Sally whispered, but he motioned for her to stop. He took a slow step forward and heard the distinct sound of the safety being released on a gun.

"Dr. Watson. I have to say, I'm surprised to see you. No offense, but I was expecting someone else." Lyons motioned for John to step toward the center of the room.

"None taken- no, you know what, I am offended. Sherlock isn't the only one with a brain." He glared at Lyons.

"What is he doing?" Alastair kept his voice low.

"Bastard is trying to keep Lyons from finding us." Sally shifted slightly. "Look, we have to end this." She glanced at Alastair and pointed, he nodded and moved slowly around the equipment.

"So, figured it all out, have you?" Lyons sneered.

"What's to figure out? Besides the fact that you're a murdering psychopath? You're really going to kill all those innocent people?"

"Innocent?" Lyons screamed. "Those... people... They torture people. They're monsters. I'm doing the world a favor." In his rage he lowered the gun. John took a small step forward.

"If you do this, you're as bad as they are." John took another small step forward, keeping his eye on the gun. "Help us prove the wrongs done here instead, we can get this place shut down."

"No. No no no. It's too late for all that. I'm not walking away from this, you and I both know it." Lyons pulled a vial out of his pocket and held it up. "If I'm not walking away, neither are they. No one here deserves a second chance. No one." Lyons blinked as if seeing John for the first time. He leveled the gun at him and whispered, "No one."

Lyons pulled the trigger and John crashed to the floor with a groan. He barely registered the second shot being fired.

"Shit. Oh shit, Sally. No, Sally." John scrambled out from under Sally's rigid body.

"Oh damn." She groaned. "John?"

"Sally... Sally you're going to be fine."

"Uhm, hey... Dr. Watson..." Alastair stood with his gun still trained on Lyons. "Is that..."

John glanced up and noticed the shattered vial. "Shit." He looked at Alastair. "I don't know if that's an airborne one. We might be exposed." Alastair nodded.

"John!" Sherlock's cries echoed from the corridor.

"If that's an airborne strain, they're going to walk right into it." Alastair looked toward the door.

"No they won't." John jumped up and ran to the door. Sherlock skidded to a halt and took in the sight of John with blood on his hands and jumper.

"No." Sherlock shook his head. "No John... no." He took a step forward, and then another, and he was rushing toward John.

"I'm  sorry Sherlock... I can't let you..." John hit the hazard alarm. The door slammed shut and locked tight. John felt the ache in his chest return.

"No! John, no! NO! John! John, please..." Sherlock's cries reverberated through the bullet proof glass of the door.

"καρδιά μου," John whispered. He made sure Sherlock looked him in the eye, with those terror-filled, red-rimmed, eyes... damn it... and repeated himself. "καρδιά μου." Sherlock stilled and mouthed the words back. Blinking rapidly, John tore himself away from the door and turned to tend to Sally. 

He pulled his jumper over his head and folded it for a pillow.  "Sally, you still with me?" She nodded and groaned. He shrugged out of his button up, wadded it, and hovered over the wound in her side. "This is going to hurt like hell."

"Already does."

John nodded and pressed the shirt to the wound. "Sally, I..."

"John Watson..." Sally's breath hitched. "If you try to apologize... I swear to god..."

"All right." John huffed a laugh. "All right."

"Hey, uhm, I think Br- Lyons is dead." Alastair was still holding his gun, but he was knelt over Lyons, trying to find a pulse.

"Al..." Sally motioned him over. "Meet John..."

"Al?"

"Alastair."

"One of Mycroft's then."

Alastair managed a weak smile. "That obvious?"

"Hmm. Yeah." John  nodded.

"So tell me doc..." Sally winced.

"Through and through. Not an area where there's  anything vital..."

"Yeah... but will I be able to... wear a bikini?"

"Oh it'll scar. But some guys like that kind of thing." John looked up at Alastair, who was trying to avoid eye contact and managed a chuckle. "You wanna help? Hold this in place. I'll check Lyons and see if I can find a med kit."

Alastair gingerly applied pressure to Sally's side. "Harder, or it won't do any good." John urged.

"I don't want to..."

"C'mon Al." Sally placed her hand over his. He nodded and pressed harder. "Better," she grunted.

John made a quick search for a kit but came up empty handed. He checked Lyons. "First kill?"

Alastair nodded. "He was... He used to be my friend."

"Damn. Sorry to..." John looked up from the vial he was inspecting without touching.

"He had to be stopped."

"Al..." Sally whispered.

"I can't right now." Alastair shook his head. "Just focus on staying awake Sally." She rolled her eyes but nodded. "What do we do now?" He watched John trying to make sense of the vial.

"Containment and medical will be here soon. Until then... We wait." John looked up and spotted Sherlock waving his mobile at him. He wiped his bloody hands on his trousers and pulled the mobile from his pocket. Oh Sherlock...

 

_John. Are you injured? SH_

_Where's Lyons? SH_

_Open the damn door. I can't override it. Open it now, John. SH_

_John, please. Please. SH_

_John. SH._

_John Hamish Watson you bastard, you let me in there right now. SH_

John stood and walked over to the door.

_Sherlock, love, I can't let you in here. JW_

_John. Why? Please. SH_

_Lyons is dead, one of Mycroft's men shot him. Donovan's here. I don't know why, but she's here. And she took a bullet that was intended for me. It's her blood on me. JW_

_Just let me in. I can help. SH_

_Sherlock, it's not safe. Lyons broke a vial of the drug when he died. I don't recognize the label. If it's an airborne strand, we've already been exposed. JW_

_No. No, John. Let me in. We'll figure it out together. Please. SH_

_You know I can't do that. JW_

_You promised. You promised to be careful. SH_

John shoved his mobile into his pocket and looked into Sherlock's exasperated face. He placed one hand on the glass, and Sherlock tucked his phone away and immediately did the same. John glanced over his shoulder to Sally and Sherlock nodded in understanding. Very carefully, John mouthed, "I'm still here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And because of all that, consider this a peace offering... Benedict Cumberbatch reading [Jabberwocky.](https://youtu.be/Q_Um3787fSY) Enjoy!


	28. Contain and Recover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " 'And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?  
> Come to my arms, my beamish boy!  
> O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'  
> He chortled in his joy."
> 
> -Lewis Carroll, Jabberwocky

Sherlock slid down the slick glass door until he felt the floor under him, then he blinked and pulled out his mobile.

 

What the hell is Donovan doing here? - SH

You found her? Is she safe? - MH

If you consider getting shot safe, she's perfectly safe. - SH

Is she -? - MH

No. Not... - SH

What happened? - MH

She, uhm, must have tackled John as Lyons fired his gun. She took a bullet to her side, they - SH

They? - MH

One of your minions is with her and John. - SH

Why - MH

Lyons dropped the vial when he was shot by said minion, it broke. - SH

And John - MH

Closed the lab door before I could reach him. He is unhurt. - SH

Sherlock, I am - MH

Just get us out of here. - SH

Will do my best - MH

 

"Molly -"

"Sherlock, I'm so sorr-"

"Can you make out what variant it is from here?"

She squinted but shook her head. "It's the number I need, the labels are all the same colour, it's just id'd by a code -"

 

John take a snap of the vial so Molly can id it - SH

Yeah, hold on - JW

 

Donovan snorted when she saw the text. "Is he always this romantic? OW!"

"We aren't -" John muttered as he took a few snaps and sent it off to Sherlock.

"Hell you aren't -" Donovan muttered. "Hey!"

"Be nice, I have to keep you awake." Alastair grinned down at her.

"I take a bullet and he says, 'Be nice.'"

 

Sherlock sent the images to Molly's phone, and closed his eyes. "I need to know, Molly, how much time if it's the airborne variant? Please -"

"An hour, maybe two, but it was never fully tested on human -"

"Well, that's something, at least..." Sherlock groaned. "Go, please, I need to know how long..."

Molly nodded and grabbed Greg's hand.

"You need to tell him. Send him a text, I know, he knows, but let him see the words, yeah?"

"I'm afraid, Greg, I don't know what I'll do if - I can't, I don't..."

"Tell him all that." He tightened his grip on Molly's hand and they ran towards the lab.

 

How is she?- SH

John took a breath and looked towards the door to see Sherlock slumped against it, watching him. He stood up and walked over, then sat so they were separated only by the thick glass. He sighed and squinted down at his phone to send a text.

Went clean through, no major organs hit, conscious and running her mouth of course, but she's losing a lot of blood and getting weaker. She needs to get out of here. No med kit that I could see. I'm sorry. - JW

Sherlock rolled his eyes at him. What for? - SH

Kissing you. - JW

John paused and shook his head. 

No. Not for kissing you, but for making you doubt yourself, and us, what we are. - JW

I would, you know, if it was something you - I just never have, with anyone. You never acted like it was important that we - SH

John shook his head again and sighed. 

It isn't. I swear, it's not, what we have is perfect - it - shit - gotta go - JW

 

"John!" Alastair shouted, snapping John's attention back to the lab. "She's, she, I think she's unconscious."

"Shit! No. Don't you dare, Sally Donovan. She doesn't have a pulse. You know CPR, yeah?"Alastair nodded blankly at him. "You do the breaths, I'll do the compressions. On my count."

"Please, Sally, please, hang on. I don't normally kiss on the first date, but I'll make an exception in your case." Alastair opened her mouth and gave her a breath on John's barely controlled shout.

"NO. No. Do not do this Donovan. Fuck. You will really hate me tomorrow when you wake up."

"There, there it is. It's weak, but she's back." Alastair moved so he could rest Donovan's head in his lap. "Stay with me, please?" 

 

Sherlock pressed his face against the door and watched as John opened Donovan's shirt and began doing compression on her chest. That could so easily be John on the floor...fuck.

He turned to see at least a dozen faceless men in full hazmat suits. "NO. NO. NO." Sherlock jumped up and pulled his gun on them. "NO! Oh, hell NO."

"Sir, you have to move away from the door."

"No WAY in HELL am I moving from this sp- Myc?" His hand dropped as his brother pushed through the sea of white.

"We have identified it as the injectable variant, they will still need to undergo the decontamination process. Give me the gun, brother mine." Mycroft held out his hand for the gun, but found himself reaching for Sherlock before he fell over. "I have you. It's over, Sherlock. It's over."

 

Sally blinked awake to a darkened room, and tried to clear her throat. She stared as Sherlock looked up from his phone. "Ice chips, I can give you ice chips?" She nodded as he put a spoon of ice chips between her dry lips. "Th-"

He shook his head. "No. I find myself in the awkward position of having to-"

"No. Don't." She tried to shake her head, but it hurt too much.

"Let me finish, Donovan. I am arse at thanking people who tolerate my existence, but you. You, I owe my life. You not only saved John's life, and all those who were present at Baskerville when you took that bullet, you inadvertently saved mine as well. Even if we had survived but John hadn't, I wouldn't be here today. Why? I don't understand why."

"Damn you, Holmes. The very fact that you even have to ask why..." She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

"Your brother kidnapped me, my first real holiday in three years and I get picked up by your arse of a brother. - Oh, shit. Myc. Sorry, didn't see you there."

"Sergeant Donovan. I should be very angry at you, if things had ended differently. However."

"Al - what did you do to Al - where is he, Holmes?" She tried to sit up but Sherlock shushed her, and she relaxed against the pillow.

"Alastair, real name, Andy Gilchrist, is pacing outside your door at the moment, he granted us a few moments of privacy. He has been by your side until the last two minutes. You have a fighter on your hands, Donovan. He hasn't slept for the three days that you've been here. He won't go home, or eat, he's existing on triple shot mochas...god knows why."

"Damn. I did it, you arsehole, because I could see, I could see how much the two of you love each other."

"What do you mean, see? See, how? Myc?" Sherlock turned towards his brother and narrowed his eyes at him.

"Al - Andy and I were your only back up. Myc knew early on there was a mole, we were holed up in a suite in the new and 'improved' B & B, we could see everything that was going on...long story short, I saw how you and John had become, well, for lack of a better word, different, and then, you, you arsehole, you shut down on him, but I saw how it was hurting both of you. Al - dammit, Andy and I got to the water filtration lab before John did, and he was trying to distract Lyons so we could get the drop on him when the arse fired. I didn't think about it, Sherlock. I only did what you would have done in my place. Please, no, don't look at me like that. I know you. Better than you think."

Sherlock nodded. "Thank you. I mean that. I won't bring it up again. I just needed you to know -"

"Understood. Can you send Whateverhisnameis in before I fall asleep, please?"

"Of course."

 

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself. You look like hell, Al - Andy, I'm never going to be able to call you Andy. Sorry. Tell me."

"No." Andy shook his head.

"Tell me, please?" She reached for his hand. "Don't start lying - about important things now. Please?"

"Hmmm...They uhm, carried you out first, I'm afraid I would have made a bigger scene if John hadn't been there to calm me down. We had to be quarantined until they could determine we were fine. That was the day from hell...Sherlock was, well you can imagine...your heart stopped two more times before they got you stable enough to take you to surgery. It had stopped once, while we were in the lab."

"You mean, you and John, saved my arse?" She blinked hard for a moment.

Andy nodded. "I'm afraid you weren't conscious the first time I kissed you, sorry. Won't happen again."

"Al - I'm ten years older and I - I'm shite at relationships, you don't want to get involved with me. I'm a mess."

"Yeah, I know, anything else I don't know about you, that I haven't learned in the last few days? Are you married?" She shook her head. "Kids?" Another shake. "Want one or two?" A nod. "There. Anything else, before I kiss you for real?"

"No, I guess not."

Alastair/Andy pulled his chair closer to her bed and leaned over her. "I love you, Sally Donovan." He put his hand into her curls and kissed her lips sweetly. "Damn." 

"I love you, too, Andy Gilchrist. Now go get in that other bed that you have been ignoring and get some sleep. For me?"

"Can't. Too many damn mochas."

"Idiot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weird canon trivia...
> 
> So Alastair/Al was just his code name, but he needed a "real" name. We agreed on Andrew/Andy (after Soo Lin's friend in TBB) and Gilchrist (from ACD's "The Adventure of the Three Students.") We only just realized Andy's last name on TBB is Galbraith and the actor who plays him is named Al.


	29. A New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"It was so long since she had been anything near the right size, that it felt quite strange at first; but she got used to it in a few minutes, and began talking to herself, as usual. 'Come, there's half my plan done now! How puzzling all these changes are!'"_ -Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Chapter 5

Three days. 

It had been three tenuous, fractious, abhorrent days since Bradley Lyons had been put down like the beast he was. Three days since Sherlock stood on the precipice of his worst nightmare being realized. Three days since Sally Donovan had stopped the world from being ripped apart at the seams. Three days since the men in ghastly bio-hazard gear took John away and kept him from Sherlock for hours, and hours, and too damn many hours.  

Three days since stubborn, perfect John -- who understood the necessity of quarantine, he honest to god did -- had quite enough, picked up the sealed plastic bag of his belongings when the all-clear was given, and forewent the opportunity to change from the thin, itchy, too large scrubs he'd been forced to endure, so he could get through the door a few precious moments sooner. Sherlock had turned from berating yet another nurse when he heard John's exhausted, shuffling tread. And then John was there, mere centimeters away, as near as Sherlock's next breath.

Had it only been three days since Sherlock froze? Knocked from his frenzied, chaotic axis by the tangible evidence of exactly how close he'd come to losing everything, and the understanding that if he continued on this frenetic course, this wouldn't be the last 'almost.' 

Three days since John had reached out and pressed his palm over Sherlock's heart. "Καρδιά μου?" And Sherlock was reduced to shallow breaths, inhaling quick bursts of the industrial antiseptic masking the real scent of John. He managed to blink, but only because his view of John, of John's fathomless blue eyes, of the way John shivered against the chill of the room in those godawful scrubs, threatened to be obscured by tears. His fingers twitched at his sides, needing to feel the evidence of John's beating heart -- his own heart, really -- too afraid that even the slightest movement, the faintest touch, would prove John's presence to be a mere illusion.

Three. Three excruciating days since Greg had announced the car was ready, and in his tremulous temper, Sherlock had turned on his heel and retreated, leaving stunned Molly to pass John his coat, take his hand, and lead him out. The ride to Henry's was silent, the atmosphere fragile yet heavy, ready to shatter to bits at the least provocation. They fell into bed, silent and exhausted, each drawing on the warmth and nearness despite keeping their distance, John because he thought that was what Sherlock needed, and Sherlock because he was still terrified the apparition of John would spirit away. "I'll probably have nightmares," John whispered, to which Sherlock only nodded.

It would have been better for them both if the nightmares had come. Instead, their sleep was plagued by cavernous, aching, hollow emptiness. Each was alone in his own loneliness, and when they woke, they were no more rested than before. 

For two days they circled one another in silent orbit, the magnetic pull between them undeniable, separated by nothing but their own insecurities. They were compelled though, by the desire to finish, the need to bring the whole sordid business of Lt. Lyons and Baskerville to a close. John and Molly were 'invited,' at Mycroft's request, to present their findings of unethical practices at Baskerville to an ethics team that seemed to materialize out of nowhere, while Sherlock was 'encouraged,' as was Greg, to meet with Mycroft's forensics team to sort out the criminal aspects of the case. 

"It's all so tediously obvious! The four original murders were revenge, as were the attempts on Dr. Stapleton and Major Barrymore, and the plan to poison the whole compound. Lyons used Stapleton's unstable ex-husband and the Alice themes as a red herring and a scare tactic. He was blackmailing the Major, but that goes back to the HOUND incident and Frankland's death. And Laura Lyons was using her extensive access to governmental secrets and information to be complicit in the whole affair..."

Greg cleared his throat. "Don't forget Sally and Jo..."

"Tea. Greg, do you want tea?" Agitated, Sherlock fled the conference room they'd been using to sort evidence. It escaped no one's notice when Sherlock would avoid any evidence or any line of conversation regarding John. And when they decided to break for the evening, Sherlock got his second wind, offering to stay on his own overnight, if it meant they would get done any sooner. 

The ache in his chest returned as John lay in the bed at Henry's house that night, scratching Bluebell's ears as sleep evaded him.

The next day, satisfied they had constructed an airtight case against Laura Lyons, Mycroft's team dispersed to follow up on loose ends. The case put to bed, Sherlock and Greg were left alone with their thoughts.

Leaning toward Sherlock, Greg made sure to maintain steady eye contact. Despite anything Sherlock might say, they both knew full well Greg was a competent detective. He searched Sherlock's face and sighed. "It's been a pleasure working with you, Sherlock."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and frowned. "Nothing about this..." he motioned to the stack of files remaining on the table, "has been pleasurable. It is one of the worst cases I have personally had the misfortune to be involved in."

"Not what I meant." Greg shook his head and forced a weak smile. "You know what I mean. I can see it in your eyes. This," he inclined his head toward the files, "this only served to confirm what you already knew."

"I don't... I'm not..." Sherlock closed his eyes and exhaled deeply.

"There was a time this was it, the big one, a case like this was what you lived for. But right now, you're miserable. And you're miserable because you don't need this. Not the stress, the danger, the adrenaline. You don't need any of that anymore. Nor do you want it. It's evident to anyone who takes a moment to actually look at you." Greg smiled in earnest then.

"What?" Sherlock's voice broke. "What's evident? Please..."

"Sherlock." Greg patted his knee. "The great mind has found his heart, and it's fairly overridden the system, yeah?" 

Sherlock stared at nothing in particular for a moment, then blinked and looked up with eyes clearer than Greg had seen for days. He nodded. "But I'm not retiring."

"Oh, you might still ring for a cold case now and again. And I'll still be out of my element." Greg winked, and Sherlock huffed a laugh. "You might even take on the occasional personal puzzle. But we both know, there won't be another Moriarty or Baskerville." Greg watched his words sink in as first indignation, then sorrow, relief, and finally determination played across Sherlock's face, and his rigid posture shifted to content. "There it is. There's the look of a man who's found his life's work, who has stumbled upon the greatest mystery there is."

"How... but without the work, what else is there? How will I convince him to stay? He loves it too."

"He might enjoy going on cases and getting up to shenanigans with you, but that's not what he loves. It's never been why he stayed. Or else he wouldn't have stuck around Baker Street after you..."  Greg scrunched up his face. "Sorry."

"No... don't be." Sherlock drew out the words. He furrowed his brow and steepled his fingers under his chin. "John loves me." He murmured to himself. He looked up at Greg. "John doesn't love the work, he loves me. All this time..." He covered his mouth with his hand. "What do I do, Greg? I- I've really arsed things up. He won't..."

Greg rolled his eyes. "Of course he will."

"How do I..."

"Well, you could always start by NOT being an arse." Greg smirked, but Sherlock considered this seriously and nodded.

"Gentlemen, thank you for your assistance with this unpleasant business." Mycroft entered with two of his lackeys; both retrieved a stack of files and disappeared. "The ethics meetings will be ending soon, and I will arrange for you transport back to London." Sherlock and Greg both nodded. "If there's nothing else..."

"I need to see Sally Donovan. I need to tha..." Sherlock turned his face away took a controlled breath in.

"That is my next stop. Detective Inspector, you are welcome to join us if you'd like."

"Molly and I are gonna go after."

"Very well. I will arrange separate cars, one for you and Dr. Hooper, and one for..." He motioned to Sherlock who had managed to get his emotions in check.

"Let's go." Sherlock jumped up, brushed past Mycroft and swung his coat on dramatically.

Greg chuckled. "So much for not being an arse."

 

* * *

 

"The final decision will be made at the home office, but we're all in agreement here and I'm confident our proposal will be accepted. I want to thank Dr. Hooper and Dr. Watson for your invaluable input, and for bringing to light some previously unknown matters. You will be credited for your contributions in the final documentation."

John and Molly shook hands with everyone present, but hung back as the others filed from the room.

John pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and groaned. "Thank god that's done. I can't stay here another hour."

Molly pulled John into a hug. "You think you two will stay with Henry tonight?"

John shook his head against her shoulder. "I just want to go home."

"I know, love." Molly hugged him a little closer. "He was just worried is all. You know that, right?"

"I do. But, I'm afraid... What if he decides to give up going on cases after this? What if this broke him, and he equates that with... us." John stepped back from Molly, but didn't meet her gaze.

"John, he just needs to get away from here. He needs to be reminded of what matters most. He needs you to help him see. You never stopped loving him, yeah?"

Smiling fondly, John shook his head. "If it's possible, I love him, need him more. I miss him so much..." He finally looked up at Molly's face. She grinned and kissed his cheek.

"Just remind him."

John hummed in agreement. "I need to help him reboot the system."

"What he needs is a boot to the system." Molly covered her mouth, but her eyes glistened. John gigglesnorted.

"What's funny?" Greg glanced around the room before stepping in.

"This one and her words of wisdom."  John looked past Greg. "Is Sherlock..."

"He and Mycroft went to see Sally." Both Molly and John had to bite back wise-arse remarks. Greg chuckled. "He's back, waiting down in the office you used."

John nodded. "You two..."

"Mycroft got us a separate car. So, I guess we'll see you in London?"

"Yeah. I don't think I can visit Sally just yet..." John rubbed the back of his neck. "Tell her I..."

"She'll understand, mate." Greg clasped John's shoulder and pulled him into a hug.

"Thanks, Greg. For everything." John returned the hug.

"Let's never do this again, yeah?"

"Agreed." John nodded. "I need to go..." Greg shoved him toward the door.

John jogged through the halls until he reached the small office. He quietly pushed the door open and whispered, "Sherlock?"

John's breath caught in his throat at the sight. Sherlock was curled on his side, fast asleep and crammed on the small couch that was entirely too short for him. There was no way he was actually comfortable, and yet...

John hadn't seen that look of peace on his face since their last morning in Greece. "Oh, love." He whispered as he approached as silently as possible.

"Sherlock. Sherlock? Καρδιά μου?" John brushed the curls back from Sherlock’s eyes.

"Hmmmmphhh?" Sherlock started, then carefully opened one eye and found John kneeling next to him.

John took both of Sherlock's hands in his and he felt them tremble. He looked into Sherlock's eyes which reminded him of the sea at twilight, right before the storm.

"I'm here."

Sherlock swallowed and nodded.  "I was so afraid... When that door shut... I would never touch you again... And then I was afraid you couldn't possibly be real." He took a shuddering breath. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry too. I just..." John shook his head. "I need to take you home. Can we go home now?"

"Henry's?"

"No, there's a car waiting to take us home to Baker Street. Andy is staying with Donovan until they can move her safely. Greg and Molly have already gone. And, the final approval has to be given, but they've agreed to shut the doors on this hell hole. It's over. It's finally over."

Gently brushing an errant tear from John's cheek, Sherlock sighed. "Baker Street?"

"Yeah. Ready?"

Sherlock nodded and tried to stand, but his legs failed him. John caught him in his arms and Sherlock sobbed against his shoulder.

"I have you, love. I have you."

 

* * *

 

_I apologize if my brother's minions terrorized your family when they collected our luggage. SH_

_Not at all. John texted a warning they were coming. Pleasant enough blokes. HK_

_Louise was sorry she didn't get to send you off properly with dinner and hugs. I tried to tell her you're not really one for hugs. HK_

_Perhaps next time? SH_

_Definitely. The kids would love to see Bluebell again. HK_

_Upstaged by my own dog. SH_

_Don't worry, I think they like her more than they like me. HK_

_Thank you again for your hospitality. SH_

_It was truly our pleasure, despite the unpleasantness with your case. I count you and John as friends, after all. As does Louise. HK_

_The feeling is mutual. SH_

 

"We should invite them to the ceremony," Sherlock mumbled into John’s hair. John was tucked against Sherlock’s side, his head resting on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Cerem- oh." John looked up at Sherlock with drowsy eyes. "You still wanna?"

"Of course. Oh, John. γιατρός μου. καρδιά μου. άλλο μου μισό. Of course I do." Sherlock pulled John closer to him and wrapped his arms around him more tightly.

"I was afraid, after everything, that this would all be too much too quickly for you." John settled more deeply into Sherlock's embrace.

"Well, I think we kind of have to. I've already sent a telegram to Ioanna and Andreas."

"Of course you did." John huffed a laugh.

"I'm sorry I made you doubt. I'm so, so sorry, John. I want this... Us... forever. Nothing else matters."

"Πάντα και διαρκώς," John whispered as sleep finally found him.

"Rest well, my heart."

 

* * *

 

"Hey Mols... Why is T- uhm..." Greg fumbled for Toby's name. "Your cat is grinning at me? How the bloody hell does a cat even grin?

Molly returned from the kitchen with a glass of wine for herself and a bottle of beer for Greg. "Aww. He likes you."

"Like a damn Cheshire cat."

Molly wrinkled her nose and groaned.

"Too soon?" Greg gave her a cheeky grin.

"Yes." She laughed and shoved a carton of lo mien into his hands.

"But seriously. It's getting creepy. Does he do that to all your gentleman callers?"

"Oh my god. Gentlemen callers? What do you think I am?" She elbowed him in the ribs. "And no... He hates everyone. Well, except..."

"Don't say Sherlock."

"Actually, no. Sherlock loves animals, but Toby hates him with a passion. I don't get it." Molly shrugged.

"Look at him! It's like he's peering into my soul. They're probably too much alike, and Toby probably felt threatened."

Molly nearly choked on her spring roll. "You may be right. No, Toby actually really loves John. Wouldn't leave him alone last time they were here. Was just all over him."

"How'd that go over?" Greg chuckled trying to imagine Sherlock pouting. It was not difficult.

"Uhm... Well, that's the night John discovered he's allergic to cats." Molly bit her lip and tried not to giggle.

"No. Oh god. Poor John." Greg laughed despite himself. "Those two. They're a bit of a mess."

"Hmm." Molly nodded and took a drink from Greg's beer. "Who isn't? Those two were made for each other. I can't imagine a  time in history, or in the future, when Sherlock Holmes doesn't find his John Watson."

Greg studied her for a moment. "I believe you're right."

 

* * *

 

_Where the hell did you find sunflowers in the coldest March since the beginning of time? SD_

_Not from me... Unless they're your favorite, and then yes. I traveled the world over to find them. AG_

_Nice try, Al. I just found the card. You'll never guess. SD_

_I'm stuck with Al forever now, huh? Good thing I like you. And I have no idea... Mycroft Holmes? AG_

_No. AG_

_Yes. And you won't believe this room. It's like a classy hotel. Minus the mini bar. His office is covering everything. SD_

_What does the card say? AG_

_"My sincerest gratitude for your service." And it's signed Myc, which is... oddly informal. SD_

_Aww. He likes you. AG_

_Shut up. Don't make me laugh. It hurts. SD_

_Just wait. I bet he challenges me to a duel over your hand. AG_

_Augh. Stop. SD_

_Sorry, love. How are you? Really? AG_

_Still pretty painful. Managed some physio today though. Got a light massage after. SD_

_I'm considering selling my place and just staying here. SD_

_Haha. Don't even think about it. But if you want to sell your place... AG_

_HELL NO. We're not doing this over text. Besides, I'm not moving to some frat boy party flat. SD_

_I have a nice place! It's in my mum's basement, so there's always food and clean towels. AG_

_You're joking. Dear god. Tell me you're joking. SD_

_Of course I'm joking. AG_

_I'm too old for this shit. SD_

_You're not. You're perfect. AG_

_They're calling me in now. Talk later. Love ya. AG_

_Ditto. SD_

 

* * *

 

The guard directed Laura to sit across the table from Andy. She looked terrible. Broken. She refused to look at him.

"Laura."

"Why are you here?" She mumbled.

"I just... I needed to see you. To make sure..."

"To check on me? Make sure I'm okay?" She finally turned to glare at him. "You killed my son. How do you think I'm doing?" She shouted.

"He was going to kill all those people..."

"Murderers. All of them." She hissed. "They deserve it."

"You believe that?" Andy's voice cracked.

"They killed my Matthew. I loved him. Bradley loved him. We did it for him."

"That... is not love." Andy shook his head.

"What would you know about love?" Laura screamed. The guard glared menacingly, and she lowered her voice, marginally. "You betrayed me and killed my only son. I gave you everything... Taught you everything. And how do you repay me? You ungrateful, selfish bastard."

Andy nodded and stood up. He turned his back to her then stopped. Without looking back, he sighed. "I saw a man lock himself in a room, exposing himself to poison so the person he loves most wouldn't have to be exposed. I saw a woman, a woman who is braver, stronger and wiser than you could ever hope to be, throw herself in front of a bullet for her friend. That. That is love. You were like a mum to me for a while... and Brad was my friend once, long ago. But... I'd make the same choice again if I had to."

He didn't look back as Laura cursed him and screamed.

 

_Mind if I stop by? AG_

_I'd be angry if you didn't. How'd it go? SD_

_I just need to see you. AG_

_I'm not going anywhere. SD_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> γιατρός μου. καρδιά μου. άλλο μου μισό. - My doctor. My heart. My other half.
> 
> Πάντα και διαρκώς - forever and always


	30. An Epilogue (or, Just a bit more because we like even numbers...)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. 'Where shall I begin, please your Majesty?' he asked.  
> "'Begin at the beginning,'” the King said gravely, “'and go on till you come to the end: then stop.'”
> 
> -Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Chapter 12

Holmes took the monograph from Watson's hand before it dropped and shattered his friend's much needed peaceful rest. He looked at the page and shuddered... Atropa belladonna...he closed the slight volume and slid it back onto the bookcase quietly. Then he resumed his meditative gaze into the fire, considering the frailty of man for a moment before he once again took in the sight of Watson; his companion, his friend, his light, and perhaps, perhaps, yes, the only love of his life. He sighed and shook his head before standing up and walking the few steps to kneel before him.

"Watson? Watson. John?"

"Hmmph, wha- where- oh, I must've dozed a bit."

"Come to bed, love, you know you can't sleep too long like that." Holmes offered his hand and Watson took it gingerly, still getting accustomed to this new found intimacy between them, and yet it felt completely natural. It felt like he was finally truly home.

 

"Home." John whispered, as he wrapped his arms around Sherlock as he stood staring into the fire. Sherlock sighed and leaned back against him. He nodded and closed his eyes.

"You will always be my home, Καρδιά μου." Sherlock murmured. "Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the ending of course...we have at least one more tale in us with this crew, as we have become a bit attached to them, so after the briefest of hiatuses, we shall begin again.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Lovely Birthday](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7557472) by [notjustmom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom), [scrub456](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrub456/pseuds/scrub456)




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